The Raine
by Mithral Dragon
Summary: A paladin discovers a drow on sale at a slave auction. Who is she? Why is she on the surface? And what is that strange necklace she wears? This is my first fic, so plz be nice. R&R, plz! It's better than it sounds! Epilogue up.
1. Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own D Wizards of the Coasts does. This warning goes for all chapters of this fic. The characters, though, are my own. This is my first fic, so...be nice, please? Don't flame me too hard, okay? Oh, and tell me if the italics come out. For example, are his thoughts italicized?

"NUMBAH TWENNY-SIX: STRONG HUMAN MALE, ABOUT TWENTY-FIVE. MAKE AN EXCELLENT LABORER, JES LOOKIT THOSE MUSCLES..."

Riko grimaced as he passed by the auctioneer, leading his mare Makia by her reins. Men waved frantically, bobbing up and down, shouting out sums of money. Even after several journeys through Mordikan, he still had not grown used to the idea of slavery. It sickened him; how could _anyone_ treat another person like...an _animal_, or even worse, an _object_?!

The first time he had visited this city-state, he was still traveling with Camir. He had been sick after seeing a nine-year-old torn from her mother's arms, screaming.

Camir had helped him out of the alleyway, squeezing his shoulder. "It's a disgusting practice, boy, but there's nothing we can do. Not now, at least." The man had lowered his voice to a whisper. "The Golden Rose is secretly active in this city. We may well assist some slaves in their escape before we leave." And sure enough, they had left with three disguised escapees. Since then, Riko had always made a point to help at least one or two slaves to freedom whenever he visited the city.

"SOLD!" bellowed the auctioneer. Riko heaved a sigh. "TH' NEXT ONE...WELL, SHE'S SOMETHIN' VER' SPECIAL." His voice fell so that Riko could barely hear him. Despite himself, Riko turned back to look. "'ve nevah had wun quite like her," the man went on in a conspiratorial voice. "An' I doubt enny of ye've had wun o' her...kind. Quite feisty..._ver_' feisty, actu'ly, we've hadda keep her inna cage, afeared she'd try t' attack ye, gennelmen..." He winked at the crowd and motioned behind him. Two men staggered onto the platform clutching a covered box. The crowd oohed appreciatively. Riko guessed (correctly) that the cage was only for show.

"I PRESENT T' YE," roared the man, whipping off the cloth melodramatically, "NUMBAH TWENNY-SEVVIN: DROW ELF FEMALE!"

Instantly a silence fell across the throng of men as they stared at the creature imprisoned in the cage. Riko, too, stared in disbelief. _How?_ he wondered. _How on earth did he get a _drow_? And a _female_ one no less!_

The woman was kneeling, clenching the bars of the cage and shaking them futilely, grinding her teeth with fury. "Ye won't get out that way!" laughed the auctioneer, and a few in the crowd laughed with him; most were too shocked to respond. The drow laboriously pulled herself to her feet, still clutching the bars for support, and turned to stare at the man.

She was tall for an elf, especially for the small drow, almost the height of an average human woman. Thick, short-cropped hair barely brushed shoulders as black as the hair was white. Ruby-red eyes glared hatred at her captor from a face dominated by a proud, hawk-like nose. Long-legged and lithe, she was slender yet strong, with an exotic beauty that shone through the haggardness and the grime.

Her face contorted into a snarl. She spat into the auctioneer's face. The man's hands shot forward and shook the bars. She let go in surprise, wavered a bit, before her legs folded beneath her and she fell to the ground.

Riko frowned. That fall...there was something wrong about it...it was definitely faked...

Even as the drow struggled up into a sitting position, the auctioneer whipped out a mirror, allowing the rays of the afternoon sun to reflect back into her eyes. She squealed, clutching her eyes and falling back in pain. The men began to laugh.

"So ye see, ye can tame her!" shouted the auctioneer, and the laughter rose. Tension drained away, and bidding began.

Riko realized he was clenching his fists. _She is drow!_ he tried to tell himself, _She's an evil creature who would probably like to see us all tortured and killed!_ The drow pulled herself up into a crouch and began screaming curses at the mob in her own language. _Drow own slaves, too! I bet she's bought, sold, and abused many innocents herself! This is a just punishment!_ The auctioneer waved the mirror at her threateningly, and she flinched away, shielding her eyes. Laughing harder at the sight, men shouted higher sums of money. The drow curled up into a fetal position, clutching her knees tightly, rocking back and forth and shaking with sobs. No matter what he told himself, Riko could not force himself to hate her; instead he stood staring at the spectacle, pitying the drow and her broken pride.

"SOLD!" The auctioneer motioned once more to his assistants, who came forward with manacles. He reached forward and unlocked the cage, to grab the drow and drag her out. One assistant fastened a pair of manacles around her wrists as the other bent to fasten her ankles.

"No, wait!" called the man who had bought her. "Leave her feet free!" He hurried up to the platform.

"Are you sure about that?" asked the auctioneer, frowning. "She may well try to run for it."

"Yes, I'm quite sure," replied the man firmly, grasping her arms and pulling her roughly after him. "I know how to handle slaves quite well...I often buy spirited ones, they often make the best slaves..." His voice took on a sickening tone, and he leered appreciatively at his sullen property.

The auction continued, but Riko followed the drow and her master with his eyes. The pair marched over to where horses and people were tied in lines, surrounded by guards, a short distance from where he stood. Assisted by his guards, the man forced the drow onto his horse and hastily climbed up behind her. One of the guards took the end of the chain to which three other people were bound. The man clucked his tongue at the horse, and began to leave the square at a walk. Without thinking, Riko followed the small group slowly, spellbound, Makia trailing behind.

The drow twisted around and looped her arms over the man's head and around his shoulders. Riko could just make out a seductive smile. The man chuckled gleefully.

Abruptly the chuckle was cut off as she pulled her wrists tight around his neck, strangling him with the chain binding her wrists together. The guards froze, then began to rush to their master's rescue, but the drow tightened the strangleholds and motioned them back with her head. Cautiously they inched backward. Riko began to walk faster.

Just as the man was turning purple, the drow suddenly untwisted the chain, whipped her arms over his head once more and shoved him off the horse. Startled by the great weight sliding of its back, the horse reared, and the drow clutched frantically at the horse's neck. The guards stumbled back a few steps, out of the range of the kicking hooves, even as the drow booted it in the sides over and over in a desperate attempt to make the animal move. With a nervous whinny, the horse came down on all fours and bolted, the drow clinging precariously to its back.

Riko froze, staring after the disappearing horse. After a split-second's hesitation, he swung up onto Makia's back, kicking her into a gallop. _After that horse, Makia! Catch up to it! _Makia snorted willingly, her hooves pounding against the cobblestone streets. _What am I doing?_ he wondered as they sped after the bolting horse. _Why am I doing this?_ He leaned forward, squinting as he hunted for his quarry.

_There! _A short distance away, a horse barreled down the street, snorting furiously, civilians screaming as they dove out of the way. He could just make out a small dark figure flat against its back. Slowly they gained on the runaway, until the Makia was almost running head to head with the other horse. The drow had not noticed her pursuer; her eyes were squeezed shut in terror. Riko reached out and grabbed the reins with one hand, jerking the horse to a sudden stop. Its rider nearly let go in surprise, and Riko leaned over and seized her around the waist. Ignoring her struggles, Riko lifted her off the horse and sat her firmly in front of him. With a snap of the reins, Riko booted Makia into a charge.

They flew towards the city gates. The drow had ceased to try to shove him off, concentrating instead on holding on, closing her eyes once more. Riko narrowed his eyes, searching for their destination.

_The city gates are always open in the daytime to let traders go in and out. If we make it to the gates, we should be okay. If I can just convince people to get out of the way..._ He smiled grimly. _Makia, go faster,_ he urged silently. _Go crazy, bolt, just move forward as fast as you can..._His horse stretched herself out, legs churning furiously, pummeling down the street like a nightmare from the abyss.

As they neared the gates, he let go of the reins and waved his arms frantically, yelling, "HORSE GONE CRAZY!! LOOK OUT!!" Bystanders shrieked, wagons swerved, traders stumbled hastily out of the way. Almost magically a path cleared before them, and they sped out of Mordikan and into the countryside.

So, was that too horrible? I'll build up the characters next chapter, but for now, how's this chapter for a start? I hope you liked it! ï


	2. Arguments

The horse slowed down soon after they left the city noises behind, slowing from an insane speed to merely too fast. Del'rania clutched at the godsforsaken animal, jouncing up and down and feeling vaguely nauseous. Her concentration was mostly devoted to holding on; the rest was considering her situation.

The situation had slightly improved. She was no longer imprisoned by that damned trader, nor was she held by that odious man. Make a concubine out of her, would he? Someday, someday soon, she'd return and sneak into his bedroom, and then...and then...

The horse gave a particularly sickening lurch, jolting her out of her fantasies. _Someday soon I'll likely be dead_, she thought wearily. _Or worse._ The gods only knew why the strange human warrior had snatched her off her horse—perhaps he had stolen her for his own pleasure. Even now he was leaning in close to her, his chainmail rubbing against her already-wounded back. She tried to wriggle closer to the horse and away from the man, to no avail. Bitterly Del'rania cursed her fate.

After another half-hour or so, the horse slowed to a walk before finally coming to a halt. As soon as she was certain the horse would move no more, Del'rania hastily slid off, away from the warrior. For a moment she wobbled before falling to her knees and retching violently, heaving out what little food she held in her stomach.

A warm male voice asked her something in the odd language that humans spoke. With a squeak she tumbled away, pulling herself halfway upright and staring at the man with wild eyes.

He was not very tall, by human standards, only about a head taller than she was, looking uncertainly at her with hazel-brown eyes as if she were some wild animal. A curl of black hair spilled out from under his helmet; his face was strong and tanned golden and soft in a strange manner—no, not soft, but..._kind_. His hands were large and callous, and were straying towards the hilt of the longsword belted to his side. The man wore breastplate armor made from a fine silvery material she recognized as mithral, emblazoned with a hand grasping a lightning bolt; the same sigil dangled from a silver chain around his neck. Looking closer, she noticed a golden chain with another symbol hanging from it, a golden, stylized rose.

The man took a step towards her, and she scrambled to her feet. "Stay back!" she stammered out in her own language, even though she knew he could not understand her. She held out a shaking hand. "I'm warning you—stay back!"

He halted, considering her with a puzzled frown. After a moment of silence, he pointed at himself and said loudly, "Tamariko. Tamariko an-Emrei." He paused, waiting for her to respond.

When no reply came, the man asked her something in her own language. "I don't speak your surface gibberish," she snapped, irritated. Hadn't the man realized that fact already?

He frowned at her again with a thoughtful expression on his face. A minute passed before he said something again, in a strange tongue that sounded vaguely like Drow. She stared at him in bewilderment. "Speak normal Drow, not some nonsense," she replied crossly—and, to her surprise, a touch hopefully. Perhaps he actually knew another language that was much closer to Drow.

The man pursed his lips in frustration, and was silent for much longer. "Do you speak Goblan?" he finally asked.

Del'rania's face lit up. "You _do_ speak something normal," she replied slowly in the same language, relieved. _At least...at least I'll know what he's saying. _

The man raised an eyebrow. "Goblan's not exactly what I'd call a normal language. I already told you my name. What's yours?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I've no reason to tell you my name."

"I rescued you," he protested. "You owe me your name at the very least—you could be polite—"

"Rescued? Ha! Be truthful, human—" Her voice still shook slightly, and she strengthened it—"Be truthful...why did you really come to my aid?"

For a moment he was dumbstruck. "Wha—you needed rescuing!" he shot back angrily. "You haven't ridden a horse before, have you. You wouldn't have gotten very far if I hadn't scooped you up."

"Hmph. Fine. You rescued me. And if you only aided me because I needed help, then I suppose you won't mind if I leave now," she purred, poisonously sweet, and turned on her heel.

But she had only taken a few steps when she felt a hand warm on her shoulder. "Wait."

A spastic jerk, and she was free of his grip, facing him, breathing hard. "S-stay away," she mumbled, knowing he couldn't hear her.

The man gave her an odd look. "You can't leave," he went on reluctantly. "There might be people looking for you."

"I—I don't care," she snapped. "I can take care of myself."

"You're on the surface. How on earth would you know which animals to hunt, which ones to avoid? Which plants are edible, which ones are poisonous?"

"I'll survive," she protested, a note of panic slithering into her voice."I—I've been on the surface f-for a while. I c-can find f-food by myself."

"Do you know good places to hide when humans pass by?" he continued relentlessly. "Because you _will_ need to hide from everyone—very few humans like drow, and I'm sure many here recall the drow raids three years ago. Everyone will likely turn you in, and then chances are you'll end up back on the block. Mordikan isn't the only city-state on the Ralgir Plains where slave-trading is permitted. They all are, and being sold is a common punishment. Do you want to end up as a concubine after all?"

She had stumbled back a few steps from him, cringing at the force of his barrage of his questions. The human fell silent, then sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm...I'm just tired." After an awkward silence, he added very reluctantly, "I'm not sure if I did the right thing."

Del'rania barely heard the last comment. "There—there are drow here?"

He looked at her curiously. "A few, yes. Most live in the forest. Underground of course..." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

She shivered violently. "N-no reason," she mumbled, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. "J-just wondering." _That's right, there are several outposts..._Oh gods, if the Council caught up to her..._but that's ridiculous_, she tried to comfort herself, _they'd never go to those little colonies for help just to get me. IT can't be that important, IT just can't..._But they'd gone through all that trouble to hunt her down, even after she fled...bending their stiff pride would probably be nothing next to all that work, just to find her..._oh gods, why did I ever take the damned—_

"What is that?"

The man's voice was much closer to her face, so close she could feel his breath. With a sudden, violent push she shoved him hard, and he fell back on his bottom. "Really, what is that?" he queried, getting back up. "I'm surprised the slaver didn't take it."

The man was staring at the necklace dangling out of the rags of her shirt. It was a beautiful, if odd piece—hair the color of moonlight braided in a loop, lacking a clasp or knot, as if the ends had melded together. A silver moon hung from it, with delicate golden stars running up the sides; one could barely make out a figure lightly carved into the silver disk. The necklace was smooth and soft like silk; light and yet metallic in some strange way.

"That's none of your business," Del'rania replied hastily, trying to stuff it back into her tunic. "And I don't need your hand to get up," she added at the proffered hand. Slowly she climbed to her feet. "What did you say your name was?" she asked hesitantly.

"Tamariko. You can call me Riko."

"...Mine's Del'rania," she replied after a long pause.

Doing well so far? Alright, nothing really happened yet in this chapter either. But it gets more interesting next time! Promise! And don't forget...review!! :) ;)

Oh yeah. I spelled the language "Goblan" on purpose. Just so ya know


	3. Decisions

"...We know little about the artifact, save that it is extremely powerful when awakened and in the hands of a heretic. However, we have learned that all of the previous bearers have been—" the speaker's mouth twisted— "'clerics,' unlike the current bearer—"

Lixarin shook herself out of her stupor at the speaker's final words. "A moment, Kistariel—how can we be certain that this...Del'rania?...is not a cleric? She _did_ take the thing after all. How would she know what it _is_, unless she was a heretical priestess?"

The Librarian glared at her, infuriated by the lack of titles. How that hot-head had managed to claw her way to such a position, Lixarin did not know; the woman was all arrogance and anger, with very little wit aside from book smarts—she was a _wizard_, for Lolth's sake, and why any self-respecting female would wish to be a spellslinger Lixarin did not know!

Still, she was smart enough not to take her anger any farther than glaring. A Librarian did not hold the privilege to sit on a Council; Kistarial was here on invitation alone, and could easily be executed for any insult to the Council members, real or perceived. Lixarin was trying her hardest to find insult in the woman's words; Kistarial deserved it, for usurping her niece's rightful place.

"I have considered it, Lixarin-_kismat_," replied the Librarian slowly. _You can almost hear her pebble-sized brain churning as it hunts for the right words_, Lixarin thought with disgust. "We have examined her background in great detail, and it appears that she was merely some low-born thief. Talented, certainly, but nothing more. Furthermore, there is some indication that the artifact itself is slightly intelligent—it may pick its bearers."

"That is just as bad!" barked Lixarin. "You've already told us that it is one of the holiest objects of that heretical 'faith.' Surely it would choose someone very open to heresy if not already an ardent follower as its bearer!"

"As the Lady _Kismat_ says," replied Kistarial with a curtsy. "Anyways, as I was saying before..."

"Never mind that." Janarelle rose to her feet. "The only thing of importance is that the heretic remains loose, with the artifact in her hands. We do not know if the artifact has awakened, but considering that she has rung from our forces in the past, I believe that the artifact still sleeps. However, the longer we wait, the greater the chances that the artifact _will_ awaken, giving the heretics and their so-called goddess an unneeded boost. Of course, those surface-dwelling wenches have never been a threat to us and never will be, but...let us not take chances. Therefore, I advise the Council to make strength their first priority and secrecy their second in choosing a squad to slay the heretic. It's a pity she cannot be brought back to the city for a proper execution," she sighed, a petulant expression flitting across her child-like face, "but the risk is too great."

"A moment, Archpriestess," drawled Tis'ganath, standing up. "If I recall correctly, it was you who recommended secrecy over force. After all, it is best if we do not alert those surface dwellers to our hunt. No doubt that the heretics have learned about the artifact from their 'goddess' and are searching for it also. What if they discover our movements? Surely they would interfere, or worse, track them in case we have found the artifact. And we can certainly do without any meddling from the Ralgir Confederation." She sat down, radiating self-satisfaction in some subtle manner.

Lixarin frowned. While the everlasting feud between the Archpriestess and the most powerful _kismat_ in the city was quite entertaining, now was not the time! Lolth _had_ told them to put aside all internal feuds to work together against this new threat.

Janarelle smiled sweetly. It was said that when Janarelle smiled, dragons trembled in their lairs. "Thank you, Tis'ganath—you don't mind if I call you that? after all, we _are_ comrades, aren't we?—for remembering the importance of secrecy. In retrospect, I realize that my mistake was to think that secrecy was _more_ important than force. Strangely enough, I recall that you objected at our last meeting to the same tactics you appear to support now, claiming then that we should make strength our first priority. Your many objections lead me to believe that you must have some sort of plan for killing the heretic. Therefore I nominate _you_ to organize the effort to capture and kill the heretic." Her smile widened. "Does anyone second my nomination?"

The murmurs that had sprung up around the hall suddenly went quiet. Lixarin could tell that many would be glad to see Tis'ganath knocked down a notch or two...but to second Janarelle's suggestion was risky. Tis'ganath's proposed job would be dangerous—failure to capture the heretic might well backfire and cause the artifact to awaken. Anyone who seconded the notion to give the powerful _kismat_ such a dangerous task would surely earn her enmity for a long time.

Lixarin slowly rose. "I'll second the nomination," she said loudly, her voice echoing throughout the cavern. There was a moment of frozen silence, then—

"_Thank_ you, Lixarin-_kismat_," Janarelle smiled. Louder murmurs broke out. "May the Council vote on the nomination?"

The vote was almost unanimous. "The Council has decided," proclaimed Suradin in ringing tones. "Tis'ganath Shaltiel shall henceforth lead the efforts to kill the heretic." The moderator sat down.

"I...gratefully accept the responsibilities given to me by the council," replied Tis'ganath in ritual response. She shot Lixarin a murderous glare across the table. For a moment Lixarin shivered at the enmity she had just earned...but then relaxed. Tis'ganath would be occupied with her new duties for quite sometime, and her House was more than able to deal with any attack from House Shaltiel. Besides...Janarelle owed her a favor.

There was a silent sigh as tension drained out of the room, yet Janarelle remained standing. "It has been several weeks since the heretic escaped into the arms of the humans, and yet we still have not located her. There has been too much hand-wringing at the expense of progress—what shall we do, how can we kill her without alerting the humans, what can be done?!" she whimpered mockingly. "No more! We now have the most capable Tis'ganath to handle such problems. Yet I believe it is time for us to scry the heretic's location once more."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lixarin noticed Kistarial eagerly tip-toeing out of the shadows she had retreated to during the power struggle, and sneered disdainfully. Even a ten-years _boy_ of her House could hide his emotions better than that nitwit! "If it pleases the Council," the Librarian said, a touch breathlessly, "I will scry for them." She waved in the direction of the far side of the room.

"As you wish," murmured Janarelle, sitting down, a queen granting a child a shiny new toy. The Council turned as one to the far wall as Kistarial walked to it.

It was the only planned wall in the giant cavern: tall, smooth, gleaming crystal. Thousands of years ago, when the city was first established, hundreds of mages had worked for years to transmute the stone into crystal with its current usage in minds. The Crystal Wall was one of the greater sights in Zorin'zaal, and to see it was a privilege granted to few. Kistarial _was_ powerful, Lixarin was forced to admit, as a whirlpool of color swirled across the shining wall. Only a very powerful wizard could project a scry across such a wide surface.

A picture slowly formed...

_Daytime. Fields of the tall, green lichen of the surface world. In the distance, a four-legged beast used by humans as a mount trots down a road. A strangely shaped rider perched on the beast._

Lixarin shielded her eyes against the light shining from the vision. In front of the wall, Kistarial squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating against the remaining pangs...

_Closer. Not one rider, but two. An armored human holds the reins, riding easily. On his arm, a shield. On the shield, a hand clutches a lightning bolt. In front of the human, a drow, clothed in rags and an over-large tunic, riding awkwardly. Around her neck, silver gleams._

"The artifact!" The words hissed from Lixarin's lips like a snake about to bite. Kistarial clenched her teeth, concentrating harder...

_Voices, speaking in Goblan._

"_Can't we stop for now?" A feminine voice, a Drow accent. Slightly whiny._

"_Why? It's barely noon." A masculine voice, an unfamiliar accent. Slightly annoyed._

"_The...sun hurts my eyes." The speaker hesitates, as if uncertain of the right word._

"_I thought you could stand the sun. You seemed fine yesterday."_

"_After two weeks, with no shelter during the...day, yes, mostly. Bright light still hurts. Yesterday, at the slave market, that was...what do you call it..._afternoon_. Now it is, it is, _noontime._" The speaker pronounces the strange words carefully, wondering if they are the right words._

Lixarin frowned. The words were from that trade language the surface dwellers used, but what they meant she did not know...

"_I thought you couldn't speak Common!" The speaker is outraged._

"_I don't. I picked up a few words from the slavers." The speaker is annoyed._

"_Oh."_

_Silence for a few minutes._

"_Do we have to go to the, the forest?"_

"_I told you, the Golden Rose has a small base there for escaped slaves! You can stay there a while, until...until you go home." The speaker is uncomfortable._

"_You're just trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" The speaker is accusatory, bitter._

"_YES!! YES, I AM!!" the speaker explodes, finally losing his patience. The four-legged beast makes a grumbling sound, picking up on its master's mood. "You're whiny, you complain every ten minutes, you squirm around on horseback and push me away every time I get near you, and you act like an ungrateful brat! Who WOULDN'T want to get rid of you?!"_

_Sullen silence for a few more minutes._

"_I...I'm..._sorry_," the speaker says slowly, grudgingly, using another strange word. Yet her response is sincere. Yet she is uncertain why she is sincere._

"...Thank you

_More minutes pass in silence._

"_What if...what if I don't want...don't HAVE anywhere to go?" The speaker probes nervously, waiting for the other's reaction._

"_Oh...I dunno. The clerics will think of something." The speaker is satisfied with the casual answer, strong in his belief, strong in his faith. Yet curiosity tinges his voice. "Why?"_

"_Um...just wondering." The speaker is nervous, perhaps afraid._

"_Huh." The speaker is suspicious. "The clerics will think of something," he repeats after a moment, certain there is no harm in the true answer she hides._

The image faded. Kistarial dropped her arms and stumbled away.

"Well," said Suradin after a moment. "Is that all?" The Council was silent, still digesting the vision. "Very well, then. Council adjourned."

Lixarin left, deep in thought. It was time to call in some favors...

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"My Lady _Kismat_ Cemasti. How may I serve you?"

The man slowly straightened from his deep bow. Zranid was tall, nearly the height of a human, with a delicate face, a faint, wry smile, and heavy-lidded eyes that gave him a deceptively sleepy, soft look. Yet beneath those long lashes burned dark red eyes, eyes the color of drying blood. _His eyes sum him up,_ thought Lixarin, not for the first time, as she surveyed the assassin. He was handsome, in his own way, and once or twice she had considered deepening the relationship. Ultimately, she had decided against it; despite everything, she still could not make herself trust him enough to let him into the bedroom.

"Zranid, _dear_," she purred, "How goes the heretic cult?"

"Badly, milady," he murmured. "They are still recovering from the most recent crackdown."

There were always a few foolish males ready to turn to apostasy if it meant more power, reflected Lixarin, and the heretic cult of Vhaeraun promised more than enough to them. Yet it had been a surprise five years ago, to discover that Zranid was one of them. In a secret trial before the Council he was disgraced, judged guilty, and would have faced the wrath of Lolth had Lixarin not intervened upon his behalf. When Janarelle had asked, as was tradition, if anyone would intercede for him, Lixarin had been unable to resist temptation and surprised the Council by stepping forward. Even more surprising was that Lolth had approved of her suggestion that Zranid should turn traitor and act as a spy in the ranks of Vhaeraun. It was a dangerous move, and yet was well worth the risk: now the greatest assassin in Zorin'zaal was permanently indebted to her.

"Sit, sit. Have some wine." She poured the hot spiced wine into the two cups as he eased himself into the chair. He picked up the cup, swirling the dark liquid slightly, staring into the depths. Was he looking for something? "Surely you don't expect me to use anything..._obvious_," she chided.

"I wouldn't dream of finding poison in my cup," he said, with apparent sincerity. Yet he waited for her to sip before he lifted the cup to his lips.

"Zranid...you spent several years on the surface, did you not?"

"Two years, milady."

"Do you recognize this sigil?" She handed him a piece of paper with a crude drawing upon it.

"A hand clutching a lightning bolt. Hm." He stared at it absently, searching the recesses of his mind for the answer. "The sigil of some..._false_ human god, milady."

"Oh?" She considered the vision of a human rider, a shield emblazoned with the sigil. Someone who spoke of clerics. "Does this heathen religion have any sort of holy warriors? Ones who...travel the world...um...spreading the word?"

"...Um. Yes. They are called..._paladins_, if I recall correctly." His eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask? Milady."

"Don't get cocky, Zranid," she said sharply. "I can still see you executed in agony if I wish."

"My apologies, I'm certain, milady."

They both fell silent. Lixarin drank deeply to hide her uncertainty. The situation made her uneasy; if this Del'rania made it to this hidden base, it would be all but impossible to kill her without alerting _someone_. A giant raid would bring notice to the surface dwellers, and Tis'ganath was the sort to resort to mass slaughter if the heretic escaped to this 'Golden Rose.' Lixarin herself preferred more subtle solutions. Yet to send a known follower of Vhaeraun to the surface...

"Zranid," she said abruptly. "Examine this picture." From her robes she withdrew a picture of the heretic Del'rania, the picture that all powerful _kismatai_ had received shortly after the heretic's flight.

Zranid studied it for a moment. "She looks like a commoner, milady," he said at last. "But if you wish me to kill her..." He shrugged, the very image of surprised obedience.

Inwardly Lixarin sneered at the façade. "Yes, I want you to kill her. But not yet. You see, this _commoner_ is a special case. She lurks on the surface, a potential danger to all of Zorin'zaal. A potential danger to all _true_ drow. Right now she holds great power, yet does not know how powerful she could be.

Lixarin leaned across the table, looking unflinchingly into those unnerving eyes. "There is a forest on the surface," she said softly, silkily. "Somewhere in that forest, near the Ralgir Plains, I believe, is a base of a certain organization called the Golden Rose. It is a place of refuge for escaped slaves of the humans. It is run by clerics of some human god, probably the followers of this same god." She meaningfully tapped the paper with the strange sigil scrawled upon it. "Find this place. Stay there. Wait for this _commoner_ to come. Her name is Del'rania, and she comes with a human protector. If she is slain before she arrives...I will inform you. But if she _does_ arrive...kill her in secret. And bring her jewelry to me. I will know if you keep any for yourself. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, milady," he murmured.

He hand leapt up and gripped his chin before he could pull away. A knife appeared like magic in her hand, and she forced his head up, pressing the dagger against his throat. "And remember this," she hissed. "You are loyal only to _me_, to me and to Lolth. Do not think you can escape. I will be constantly watching you, and if I see a single attempt to escape me, you will feel the wrath of Lolth. I will hunt you down and slaughter you if need be. You still belong to me, Zranid. Do you understand?"

Eyes the color of the blood beading his throat calmly looked down at her. "As my Lady _Kismat_ commands," he murmured. That faint smile widened slightly in dark humor. "As my Lady _Kismat_ commands."

Infuriated, she shoved up his chin, wishing she could beat that smile out of his face. He grunted slightly as his head snapped back. As the knife vanished back into her sleeve, he rose from the table, waiting to be dismissed.

"Get out," she growled, flicking her hand imperiously at him. "Get out of here, and don't return until you've completed your mission." Lixarin spun on her heel and marched to the door on the other side of the room.

He gave a deep, final ironic bow to her turned back, knowing she could still see him. "As my Lady _Kismat_ commands," he said for the third time, sounding as if he were granting her a small favor, and closed the door behind him.

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Quite a few of you wanted longer chapters, so here's an extra-long one for y'all after such a long wait! I have to warn you, the next might be a little bit short. Sorry it's taken me so long—I've been pretty busy with school and the holidays (don't ask), and half-way through the story my manuscript vanished, and I had to start again, which was discouraging. Moral of the story, folks: ALWAYS save on the hard drive, and once it's finished transfer it to a floppy. Thanks sooooooooo much to everyone who reviewed—give yourself a hand, everyone!! Cookies for all!! passes out a platter of cookies for everyone


	4. Raid

Barely a week had passed since the escape from the slave market. Del'rania and Riko had come to a wary truce—Del'rania would remain "civil," as Riko put it, and Riko would not ask questions about her past or any odd incidents.

And there _had_ been odd...incidents, Del'rania reflected as they rode across the seemingly endless plains. A few days she had tried to say the word "Lolth," and had nearly choked on her own tongue. Nor could she make any other references to the goddess, as she discovered after a short but furious bout of almost-cursing when that dratted horse of Riko's had stepped on her foot (she still was uncertain whether or not Makia had done that on purpose...the horse seemed too intelligent for a normal animal, and had taken a distinct disliking for her). Now she was getting headaches every time she even _thought_ of..._Damn!_

It was as if something was...inhibiting her. Del'rania wondered whether Riko was behind it but given the strange looks he gave her at the time, she honestly doubted it. Really, the human seemed too..._simple_ for anything of the sort. _He wouldn't last a minute in Zorin'zaal,_ she thought to herself.

And then there were the dreams. Every night, she dreamed the same dream. Every night, unclad women dancing under the stars, dancing, singing strange songs she'd never heard before, songs she could not understand. Praising some goddess—not... (her head panged warningly)...but rather a goddess of the surface world. Each woman different and yet the same, hair silver as the moon, skin black as the night. They whispered strange somethings to her, words from some soft silky dialect of Drow, urging her to do something. _Come, sister, come..._Del'rania could understand no more. They frightened her, those dreams.

She found herself thinking strange thoughts, too. Sometimes she found herself..._enjoying_ the daytime. Enjoying! L..._Gods_! She _hated_ the daylight! It burned her eyes and blinded her senses. Well...not anymore, but still...

Night, on the other hand, was better. Night was dark and cool, reminding her of the chilly caverns of the Underdark, hours spent wandering away from civilization. She could close her eyes at night, and almost pretend she was home. The glorious night sky, filled with glittering stars and a brilliant moon..._Dammit! I'm doing it again!_ She shook her head fiercely to rid herself of the image of the night sky, and the moon, and...dancing.

Riko suddenly reined the horse. "We'll stop here for the night," he said, motioning to a lone tree poking up out of the ground in the distance. "The sun's setting—Makia's getting tired—and I'm sure we could all use a break from the saddle." Del'rania scowled at him, secretly itching to rub her bottom. Riko had told her that it would take some time before she grew used to the saddle. But, ohhhh! How it ached after all these long days of riding, riding, riding! "One brief trot," he continued, seemingly reading her thoughts, "and that'll be all for the day."

Later, seated around the fire, Del'rania watched curiously as Riko lit a stick of incense, as he did every night, and made ablutions to the god he worshipped. That was another change; suddenly she found herself interested in the strange rites the man performed every night. Back in Zorin'zaal—at _home_, she reminded herself firmly—the priestesses had viciously suppressed the worship of any god besides—besides _that_ goddess, and few drow had the motivation to seek out another god and face the clerics' wrath. Oddly enough, she noticed, thinking about any god besides _that_ goddess did not give her a headache.

Riko finished his prayers and dabbed the stick of incense out in the ground. She had always wondered about that; Riko recycled his incense, using the same stick every night, and his god _did not take offense_! In Zorin'zaal, anyone that cheap would probably be killed. Granted, everyone worshipped..._that_ goddess, but religion for the most part was for those who could afford it.

"Who do you worship every night?" The words tumbled off her lips before she could keep them in.

Riko's surprised expression reflected her own, she was sure. "Heironeous," he replied uncertainly.

"Heh-rohn-nus," she tried, tasting the human word.

He shook his head. "Hi-_row_-nee-us," he said slowly, enunciating each syllable distinctly.

"Hi-_row_-nee-us," she repeated, pronouncing the name carefully.

He nodded. "That's right," he said, and added a touch suspiciously, "Why do you ask?"

"Just...wondering," she said uncomfortably, looking away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him eyeing her apprehensively, as if he were waiting for something. _He's expecting me to say something about _that_ goddess,_ she realized. Instead she stared into the flames, watching their flickering dance. A wave of uneasiness swept over her, and she moved closer to the fire. "Make it hotter," she demanded, and the obliging Riko stirred the coals.

Del'rania slept.

_She ran through the forest, branches tearing at her and lashing her to ever greater speeds. She ran and ran, not knowing what chased her, only that she had to get away. Spiny thorn bushes and trailing vines whipped by her as she ran on._

_And then the forest opened suddenly onto a glade of sorts, and she stopped at its edge, panting and gasping for breath. Music played, drums beating out a complex rhythm, hunting horns wailing an eldritch song. Women danced, their nude bodies writhing to the thunder of the drums, long hair whipping behind them. The full moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the scene._

_But something was wrong. First one horn, then another, then all, fell off-key, screeching in agony as their player tried to wring the music from their incapable throats. Drums fell off-beat, confusing the dancers, whose graceful movements suddenly became slow and halting. And then the music cut off abruptly, gasping out a final note like a breath from a slit throat. _

_The dancers ceased to move, wildly looking around. They turned this way and that, looking for an escape, then dashed about, as if they could not leave the clearing._

Run, sister. _The cry came from nowhere, whispered from a thousand throats. _Run, sister._ Again the two words were chanted, and yet again and again. _Run, sister._ The dancers began to flee the glade at last._

Run, sister.

Run, sister.

_Clicking and crunching echoed behind her, and with a terrified gasp she remembered her pursuers. Weeping with fear, she stumbled into the clearing. Where had the dancers fled? The clicking increased, seemingly coming from all around her. Eyes shined in depths of the forest. A huge spider burst from the trees, trailing destruction in its wake._

Run, sister.

Run, RUN, _RUN!!_

Del'rania awoke, screaming. At her throat, the necklace throbbed.

"Riko, wake up! They're coming, Riko!! _THEY'RE COMING!!_"

The scream echoed over the plains. Virrandria cursed silently, wondering how the girl had known. Her hands flickered in fingerspeak to the ten soldiers with her.

_Spread out around them. Move silently but quickly. Ready your crossbows._ The warriors nodded and set out.

"Wake up, Riko, damn you!" She kicked the lump that was the human's body, and he groaned awake. "They're here, they're here, wake up!" she panted, grabbing a still-burning stick from the dying fire and waving it in the air. Half-formed plans flitted through her head, and she spent barely any time wondering how they had got there. "Get up, get up—oh."

The man was on his feet, staring at her, longsword naked in his hand. "What's going on," he demanded, looking over his shoulder at her as he strode over to wake his horse.

"They're coming Riko oh gods they're coming to kill me—" Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard against the rising terror. She threw the stick down next to the tree, and shoved all of the remaining sticks meant for the fire next to it. All, that is, but for a single, thick switch; clubs were always the most basic of weapons. "Look, d'you have any oil—?"

"Yes, in the saddlebags—"

"_Get down!!_"

Crossbow bolts hummed overhead. Someone cursed in Drow. Del'rania wrenched herself to her feet. "Get the oil," she continued, "and throw it on the fire!" She stared into the darkness, watching the drow as they circled, waiting for instructions from a female in robes. A priestess.

"Stars and sun!" she swore, and blinked at the unfamiliar curse. Something was climbing up from the depths of her soul, something struggled with her for control... "No, no, oh please no not now," she moaned in a breathy whisper as she fought the something down. "Please not now..."

A sudden wave of heat washed over her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the fire burning bright, licking the tree trunk. To her delight, a breeze sprang up and fanned the flames. The fire burned slowly but fiercely, feeding on the oil, climbing higher and higher. Crackling, small flames leapt onto the tree trunk, growing bigger as they burned into the thick bark.

There was a scream from the dark as the flames grew bright. Del'rania smiled as the warriors staggered back from the light. Strangely enough, her eyes did not burn at all.

"Drow," Riko said carelessly, as if he had been expecting it all along. For a moment he closed his eyes in prayer.

"This isn't the time!" she hissed, but he paid no attention to her. After a moment, he opened them once more.

"There," he said in satisfaction. Del'rania blinked at him. The man seemed to...glow faintly in some subtle manner.

"Get them, damn you! Get them!" shrieked a woman's voice in Drow.

"But mistress—the light—our eyes—"

In a single movement the priestess lashed out against the protester, dealing a vicious blow to the warrior's head with a morning-star. The man dropped with a cry. "Questions?" she demanded with an ugly expression. The remaining warriors charged silently.

She fended them off as best as she could, desperately trying to block the whirling swords. They were still partly blinded by the light—even though they had closed their eyes, the fire's light burned through their eyelids. Next to her, she caught glimpses of Riko, ducking and feinting, slashing, stabbing, sword ringing against his opponent's blades. His movements, she thought absently, were a touch unearthly. Makia reared above, lashing out with her hooves, knocking warriors to the ground and trampling them.

And then, above the chaos, eerie chanting floated through the air.

_The priestess!_

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the chanting came to a triumphant halt.

"Get back!" cried the priestess. The remaining three soldiers moved away warily. Riko looked at Del'rania, blood dripping from his sword. "Wha—"

Wordlessly, she pointed behind him.

A huge spider loomed above them, its many eyes shining in the light of the fire, its giant pincers clicking menacingly. Makia screamed at the thing, and backed up, before bolting away into the night.

Riko and Del'rania backed away from the creature. It took one ponderous step forward—then lunged, snatching up Riko in its pincers.

Del'rania screamed despite herself. The man was helpless in the monster's claws. It shook him ferociously, like a dog shaking a favorite toy. Shining like a fallen star, the longsword tumbled from his hands and landed with a thump on the ground beside her. Giving Riko one last shake, the spider tossed the man aside and advanced upon her, seeming to smile in evil delight.

The priestess's laughter rang out in the night like silver bells. Del'rania stumbled back. It was hopeless to run, she knew—the spider would catch her before she took two steps, and kill her as it had slain Riko—kill her and take the necklace—

_No._

Something rose in her—rose and rose—_and rose—AND ROSE_—

Her eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Slowly, as in a dream, she bent to pick up the longsword.

The necklace..._throbbed_.

Suddenly she was floating above the scene, looking down—or was she? Del'rania tried to move her limbs, but could not. Her body was not there. All she could do was watch.

Beneath her, a small figure glowed silver in the night. It wielded a longsword—_is that me?_ The last thing she remembered doing was picking up the sword...

The figure flung out a hand at the spider, and silver fire shot forth and burned the spider. With a screech the monster reared up, waving a useless leg. Falling back on its remaining seven legs, it backed away from the figure. Behind it, the priestess urged it on.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, shining down on the scene. A single thick moonbeam seared across the spider, and it screamed in pain. The figure leapt into the air, somehow seizing the moonbeam, and landed on all fours on the spider's back. Quickly it clambered up to the spider's head, and plunged the sword in, again and again. Thick, greenish stuff oozed out of the widening wounds. As the monster fell and vanished, the figure grasped the moonbeam once more, sliding down to land in front of the priestess.

The priestess gaped at the figure. She back away one step, then two, then turn and ran, screaming for the remaining fighters. But they had vanished, having long since fled into the night.

The figure did not bother to chase the priestess. Slowly one hand rose. Again, silver fire flared in the night, enveloping the priestess. One scream, and she was gone, crumbling to ash.

Slowly the figure turned, and..._danced_ (Del'rania could think of no word more fitting) to where Riko still lay. Amazingly, the man still lived, but his life was bleeding away by the second. He had only moments left to live...

The figure bent down beside him and placed its hands on his chest. Silver fire played about her fingers, springing to his wounds. First he ceased to bleed...then his wounds began to close...He was still badly hurt, but he would live. He would live.

The figure looked up. Del'rania felt as if she were being sucked down, pulled back to earth. The world whirled around her and went dark.

Riko awoke with a moan, his body aching all over. The last thing he remembered was being seized by the giant spider—why was he still alive—?

Above him shone a figure of silver fire—no, a dark figure illuminated by a silver glow. Long-fingered black hands lay on his chest, radiating silver fire. His body tingled with the familiar feeling of a Cure prayer.

Even as he watched, the hand slid and fell away. For a moment the figure wobbled, silver glow fading, and then Del'rania folded up, collapsing to the ground in the deepest of sleeps. As he forced himself into a sitting position, grimacing as his wounds panged, he noticed that her necklace shone for one last moment, then went dark. Leaning closer, he could just make out on the silver disk an intricate carving of a dancing woman.

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Don't know what that "silver disk" is? Go back and read the second chapter! snickers Remember, the necklace is described as "hair the color of moonlight braided in a loop, lacking a clasp or knot, as if the ends had melded together. A silver moon hung from it, with delicate golden stars running up the sides; one could barely make out a figure lightly carved into the silver disk." Again, apologies for taking so long. I'm afraid that it's definitely going to take me at least another week to put out the fifth chapter but now I'm all pumped up that I want to keep typing!! Stupid homework. Thanks for all the reviews!

Oh yes. Even thought Chapter 3 was one of the hardest chapters I've written (which isn't saying much...not to mention the manuscript disappearing), I found myself enjoying the bickering of the Council, and Lixarin and Vranid in particular. I'm thinking about writing another fic once this is finished involving the two of them, maybe explore their relationship (and I do NOT mean that in a warm and fuzzy way. Maybe in the "I'd like you dead but you're too valuable/waste of my time, so for now I'll just smile and put myself to sleep with images of your dead body" way). Do you think that's a good idea? If you do, say so in your reviews. But it may take me a while to come up with an idea for a story, so you'd have to be patient.


	5. Explanations

Del'rania struggled through the seas of oblivion, trying to escape its dark waters and the silvery voices that beckoned, tempting her as they did in her dreams. Finally she crawled onto the shore of consciousness with a gasp.

"Del'rania?" a distant voice called. "Del'rania? _Keshrik slarr_?" Goblan, but her mind was too fuzzy to translate the words.

"…uuuhhhh…" She tried to assess her surroundings. Everything was dark. Her eyes were shut, she realized, but she had no desire to open them. She was bobbing up and down, but even as she groaned she came to a stop.

"_Vax slarr d'skum_?" the voice insisted anxiously.

"…lemme alone," she managed to get out. Her head ached so much, and she was so exhausted…

There was a short pause. "_Govan, please_,"said the voice gently. "_Vax slarr d'skum_?"

Del'rania hunted for the meaning within the depths of her mind. _Wish…you…to stop,_ she thought dully. It took a few moments to register. "What? Um…_Tri_?"

"_Vax slarr d'skum_," the voice repeated patiently.

Panic seized her. Her eyes snapped open with fear, and she cried out and shut them again as sun reflected off of mithral armor burned her eyes. "No, no, no, no," she moaned, rubbing her head into the metal as if to burrow away from unseen enemies. Although she spoke Drow, the voice seemed to understand. Once more she began to move, bobbing up and down with a clopping of hooves.

Bolts of pain shot through her head with every clop. Without a sound, she slipped back into the icy waters.

-

Riko eyed the darkness of the night uneasily, half-expecting another band of drow to leap out from the depths to kill them both. Makia nuzzled him affectionately, disturbed by her master's anxiety, and he absentmindedly patted her nose to clam her.

His eyes turned to the form of the drow, lying by the fire where he had carefully arranged her. It had been three days since the battle, and yet she had only stirred today. The necklace gleamed silver through the rags of her shirt.

The necklace. That was the key to everything, he was sure. That was what caused…whatever had happened to Del'rania that night. It was an eldritch item, a strange thing that seemed…_holy_, somehow. It frightened and fascinated him. It captured the moonshine in its silvery depths.

Despite his fears, he crept over to the unconscious Del'rania. Almost by its own accord, his hand reached for the shining disk…

A midnight hand shot out and snatched his hand from the disk, crushing it in a bone-crunching grip. He grunted in surprise and pain and tried to peel away her fingers, but it was like trying to bend steel.

A faint sound floated up from Del'rania, and, still trying to free himself, Riko looked down at her face. It lolled to one side, disturbing its pool of white hair. Long eyelashes fluttered uncertainly before slowly rising as she opening her eyes. She stared bemusedly at him, seeming not to see him.

"_Suhl'arin jhi?_"

"Excuse me?" he replied, forgetting to speak Goblan for a moment.

"_Riali bisu noma…srasa maan?_"

"_Skosa Govan_," he reminded her with a sigh. "Speak Goblan, I don't know your language, remember?"

She stared at him, seemingly uncomprehending. Then, "_Srasa maan?_ Ah…_ska kukrin_?"

"Oh. Food?" he asked, relieved. "You want food?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, I want food," she snapped weakly. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

"You haven't. Well, not real food…I gave you water but I was afraid you'd choke on solids." He beckoned Makia over and took a loaf from her saddlebags. She snatched it from his hands and wolfed it down, then looked up expectantly at him.

For almost an hour she ate ravenously. Twice she tried to sit up, but did not have the strength to stay upright. "I feel like a three-year old drowling," she complained.

"Drowling?" he queried, raising one eyebrow. "That's what you call your children?"

"Yes," she replied, with the slightest hint of a challenge.

"Cute," he murmured, ignoring her bewildered look at the Common word.

After she finished, he squatted down beside her to look her in the eye. "Listen," he said, "We need to talk."

She avoided his gaze uncomfortably. "About what?"

"That." He pointed at the necklace.

Her hand rose protectively. "What about it?" she replied weakly.

"Del'rania…" He sighed. "That night…" He closed his eyes in memory. "I should have died that night. And you probably should have died, too. But we didn't. And somehow, I'm sure that the fact that we're still alive has something to do with that…_necklace_ of yours."

"How do you know?" she challenged.

"Look, I woke up to see you glowing with silver fire healing my wounds," he cried, growing angry. "Are you a cleric, Del'rania, by any chance? Are you? No? I thought so. You've been hiding something all this time, and I haven't asked you about it so far—but enough is enough. You owe me an explanation."

"Oh? Since when have I owed you anything?" she quavered

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. For a moment Riko was rendered wordless with fury. "I rescued you from the slave market," he began, trying to keep a hold on his temper, "I promised to take you to a place of refuge—fed you my food—fought by your side instead of fleeing on Makia—nearly _died_, for that matter, fighting for you—and kept traveling with you instead of abandoning you for the last three days, even though it meant _tying_ you to my back! Heironeous shield and protect me! And you have the, the _arrogance_ to demand what you owe me? For the last time, WHAT _IS_ THAT NECKLACE?" The last part came out as a shout despite himself. Del'rania quailed before his wrath, half-raising her hands to fend him off.

Riko stared at her, prostrate and still trying to shrink away, and forced himself to relax. Slowly the anger drained out of him, leaving him tired and exhausted. "Sorry," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "These last few days, they haven't been… sorry." He took a deep breath. "I'll ask you again—what is that necklace?"

Silence for a few tense moments. Finally Del'rania mumbled, almost ashamedly, "I don't know."

Riko eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

"I don't know," she repeated.

He paused uncertainly. "Then…where did you get it?"

"Stole it. From a dragon's hoard."

"You _stole_ it from a _dragon's_ hoard?"

"Well. Sorta. The dragon was dead…"

"Who killed it?"

"A small army sent from Zorin'zaal."

"From _where_?"

"It's…a city. Of drow. Underground. Where I'm from." Del'rania lapsed into silence.

Riko considered for a moment. "Look, just start from the beginning," he sighed, "Just tell me about the damn necklace and how you got it."

Del'rania looked down. "Well…It started when the Council began gathering a small army to attack a nearby red dragon…"

"Council?—no, never mind…"

"The most powerful _kismatai_ in the city," Del'rania recited, "led by Most Holy Archpriestess Janarelle, Blessed in the Eyes of—_gaak_!" She broke off, coughing, twisting on the ground. Riko bent over her, worried, but she waved him off as she recovered.

"It—was done—all in secret—" she wheezed. "They were—looking for—good fighters—good wizards—good sneaks…" She paused to take a deep breath. "Anyway, I was—I _am_—quite a good sneak, if I may say so myself. I was employed by House Sus'sarin—they drafted me for the effort.

"They promised us great rewards if we pulled off this job, even though they didn't even tell us what the job was at the time. Gave us all sorts of magic gear, or enchanted our weapons for us—I had a nice little blade at the time, they got some spellslinger to magic it for me—then rounded us in one huge room to tell us what our job was.

"This red dragon lived many miles away. Huge bastard, monstrous wyrm—anyway, we were essentially being hired to assassinate the dragon. Fighters were separated from spellslingers, and then we sneaks were split up into a bunch of different groups, little squads headed by particularly skilled sneaks, sometimes assassins. We were going to be teleported into the dragon's lair—"

"Wait a minute," Riko interrupted. "They were going to teleport you into the dragon's lair? Wouldn't that be suicide?"

"They were going to lure the dragon out first. I dunno how. It'd been impinging on Zorin'zaal territory—maybe they were going to try to make a 'truce' with it or something. It doesn't really matter.

"So we were teleported to the dragon's cave—oh, wait. Before they did that, they told us _not_ to touch anything from the hoard. We would get our share later."

"Smart. A dragon can sense when someone steals from it, I believe."

"Really? Facinating," Del'rania said, showing little sign of interest. "So we all hid in the hoard room, and waited for the dragon to come back." She closed her eyes, seeming to remember, before continuing.

_The cavern was completely dark, black but for the few glowing lichens growing on the walls. All around the room she could see the others, spread out along the many ledges, hiding in crevices. She shivered and pressed herself closer against the wall, wishing for the dragon to return so they could do their job. Beneath them lay the dragon's hoard, tauntingly close…yet forbidden by the Council. _Think of afterwards,_ she told herself. _This will make all of us wealthy drow. Think of afterwards.

_Suddenly she perked her ears up. Footsteps, heavy footsteps, far off. _Dragon's returning_, she signed to Kal'ruhn, who nodded and passed the message on._

_It was still a long time before the dragon came. Monstrous and majestic, a terribly beautiful creature the reddest of red. She found herself admiring the creature in spite of herself. The dragon climbed onto its golden bed, magnificent power incarnate._

_Abruptly it tensed. Its eyes, hot pools of lava, narrowed suspiciously. That long, serpentine neck twisted around and around as it sniffed out the intruders._ Prepare for attack,_ signed Kal'ruhn_. Get ready… _"Now!" he shouted, as the dragon came right below them._

_They leapt out from their hiding places, landing agilely on the dragon's back to plunge their weapons as best they could into its scaly hide. More and more, the bands of sneaks and fighters poured out from their crevices and ledges to launch themselves at the dragon, until the great wyrm was covered with hundreds of dark figures. The monster roared in pain and anger, shaking itself and clawing at the drow._

_Distracted, the dragon did not see the Gate opening until too late. Spellslingers swarmed forth with fireballs and lightning, acid clouds and force missiles. The dragon opened its mouth as if to yawn, and blew a flower of fire at the oncoming mages._

_She cried, covering her eyes at the sudden light. Beneath her she could feel the dragon moving, stretching itself out. Suddenly it shook itself, like an earthquake beneath her feet. Instantly she was flung from its back, to fall with a grunt in the golden sea below._

_Slowly she collected herself, moaning with pain. The hoard had softened her fall somewhat, yet her body still ached all over. Laboriously she pulled herself to her feet. A few feet away shone her rapier. Aching at each step, she stumbled over to pull it from the hoard. She cast her eyes about the room, ignoring the ongoing battle, looking for a nice crevice to hide in and lick her wounds._

_Abruptly she froze in her steps. Somewhere, something…_called_. Shaking, she turned slowly and jerkily walked to a silver gleam amidst the gold._

_It was not a shard of silver, but rather an ornate piece of jewelry. Mesmerized by the necklace, she picked it up and examined it carefully, rejoicing in every little detail. Around her, the chaos seemed to freeze and melt away. With trembling hands, she lifted it to her neck, and the ends melded beneath her fingers._

"Then what happened?"

"I ran."

_She pounded through the caverns and caves of the Underdark, not knowing where she ran, only knowing that she must flee. Somehow she knew which paths to choose; something guided her steps. A strange, crazed energy thrummed through her veins, driving her ever onwards._

_Finally, after hours of running, she found herself climbing up through tunnels to burst out at last onto the surface, to collapse a few feet from the entrance to the Underdark. She stared in wonder all around her at the strangeness of the surface world. Everywhere was green. Tall green moss covered the ground. Huge plants of gray and brown and white loomed above her, covered by an explosion of greenery that grew from the stems and branches. Stringy lichen twisted around the giant plants and hung from their branches. Light lanced through the canopy of green, burning her eyes. Exhausted, she curled up beneath one of the large plants and fell asleep._

Riko stared at her in bewilderment. "Tall green moss? Giant plants? Stringy lichen? What in the name of Heironeous are you talking about?"

Del'rania gave him an exasperated look. "You know…trees, grass, vines, that stuff. Only I didn't know what they were."

"Oh." He reddened, feeling slightly foolish for some reason. Of course she wouldn't have known what a tree was. "Well…carry on…"

_When she awoke, she traveled on. _They_ would follow her, she knew; being on the surface would deter _Them_ for a while, but eventually they would continue the chase aboveground. She was lost, tired, hungry, but it was of utmost importance to get away from the Underdark as fast as possible…_

_For days she traveled, sleeping only when too tired to travel. Hunger drove her to try whatever looked edible, though she could not tell the poison from the safe fruits. The second time she slept, she had awoken, startled, knowing something was wrong. Something crackled a distance away. Five or six drow, looking for something. Looking for her. _They_ had found her. She ran, vanishing into the forest before they could sense she was near._

"You awoke, knowing something was wrong? Is this connected to whatever told you those other drow were coming, the other night? Is it, Del'rania?"

"No!" she cried, so vehemently that he knew she was lying. "No, it had nothing to do with that!"

_The hunt continued, day after day. She was growing desperate, now. They drew closer, with each passing day. And she was growing weaker, too. Exhaustion was taking its toll on her, and something she ate had mildly sickened her. Water, too, was scarce, as she came across a brook or a stream only every few days, so she was constantly thirsty, too…_

_And then one day, she awoke yet again, knowing they were close. She fled blindly into the greenery, hearing their shouting behind her. Desperation gave her strength, and she ran on and on, knowing the chase would end today…_

_But just as she began to tire, new sounds began to reach her ears. Sounds of shouting, laughing, talking. Sounds of people other than her hunters. Sounds of hope. Adrenaline gave her a new burst of energy, and wearily she turned her steps towards the voices. _

_Yet even as she drew close to the noise, she could hear them nearing. They might still reach her before she got to the others. Terror seized her and she forced herself to move faster._

_Suddenly a human stepped out of nowhere, shining in his armor. He looked as startled by her as she was by him. Drawing his sword, he shouted what sounded like a warning to someone nearby._

_She threw herself at his feet. "Please," she begged, sobbing for breath, "Please, you've got to help me, _they're_ coming…" As she tried to pull herself upright, she heard a clack behind her, the clack of a crossbow. With a scream she threw herself to the ground once more. A crossbow bolt bloomed at the man's throat, and she scrambled past him as he fell to the ground. Men were shouting, running, making their way towards her even as her pursuers burst forth from the undergrowth. With a final burst of energy, she stumbled the last few steps into the human encampment. Humans surrounded her, staring at her in shock as she fell to her knees and then hit the ground with a sigh, fainting from exhaustion._

_She drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. Humans stood over her, arguing angrily in their strange tongue. A man crouched over her, rubbing his hand and cursing violently (from the sound of his voice). Someone forced a spoon between her lips, and a warm something trickled down her throat._

_Finally she awoke completely. She was lying against a cold, metallic surface, covered in a thin blanket. Slowly, in a daze, she sat up, staring in bewilderment about her. Bars surrounded her, the bars of a metal cage bouncing up and down on a wagon. Other wagons rolled alongside her, wagons filled with miserable looking creatures chained together—humans, goblins, halflings, even some of the loathed lightskin elves. Realization dawned upon her, and she screamed a wordless scream of anguish, shaking the bars of her cage in impotent fury. This was a slave cavern, and she was a slave._

"So that was how the slavers found you."

"Yeah, _I_ found _them_."

The corner of his mouth twitched in spite of himself. "Of course you did," he soothed. "Look, it's getting rather late, and you still look pretty tired…I'll take first watch, and Makia can take second, and tomorrow we'll go on a three-watch schedule, okay? You get your sleep." He got up and moved a short distance away, drawing his sword and eyeing the horizon.

Barely a minute later, he heard Del'rania shifting around. "Something wrong?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"Riko?" she asked, sounding uneasy.

"Yeah?"

"…Thanks."

"What?"

"Just…thanks." She rolled over without another word, and within minutes she was asleep.

Okay, I hope you enjoyed the flashback in this chapter! That's one of the reasons why I took so long. Originally Del'rania told her story through a conversation with Riko, but only _after_ I finished it did I think, "Hey…it'd be pretty cool to do a flashback!" But then I had very little time to do it until today. Parent-teacher conferences tomorrow, baby! The other reason is that I FINALLY got through to FictionPress and got my account. Yay! Although I enjoy writing fanfiction, I generally prefer to write my own original fiction. So I've also been dividing up my already-written stories into chapters and uploading them on the main computer downstairs, which is frequently occupied by my parents. And now I'll take the opportunity to shamelessly plug myself. PLUG! No, seriously, I would appreciate it very much if you went and read my stories, since I think they're better than this fic. My pen name is Lady Storyteller, and though of course it's your decision I will love you forever if you do read my stories. Of course, I already love you guys forever, since you've actually taken the time to read what I write and review…mwah. Big huggles, guys. hugs everyone


	6. Arrival

Two more days' travel, and they finally reached the Forest. Riko breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through the leafy boughs of the giant trees surrounding them. Two more days, and they would be within reach of the base's patrols. Three more days, and they would finally reach Esrai itself.

Del'rania, on the other hand, did not seem happy at all. Rather, the farther they traveled into the Forest, the more tense she grew. He could not blame her, but inwardly he laughed at her fears. This was the Forest. This, at last, was home.

They were moving along at a quick trot when he first heard the horses quietly approaching, hooves thumping softly against the ground. Del'rania began to speak even as he pulled Makia to a halt. "Someone's coming."

"Yes, I know."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get out of here!"

"No, we're not leaving until we see who it is. Most of the domesticated horses in this area of the Forest are owned by the Golden Rose. It might be a patrol from the base at Esrai, though it's unusual for them to be this far out. Quiet down and wait."

Grumbling, Del'rania subsided.

Several minutes passed in tense silence. The riders, whoever they were, drew closer. Then—a flicker of movement—light reflected off of metal—a banner waving in the air—and suddenly the Esrai patrol appeared, trotting towards them.

Riko cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. "Patrol…_halt_!" he yelled in Common. In front of him, Del'rania sighed in despair and shook her head, amazed at his foolishness. The patrol came to a stop. There was a moment of stillness before the leader rode forward.

"Honored Paladin." He dipped his head in deference.

" Squad leader."

"Is there something you wish, sir?" He moved a few more steps forward. "We would be delighted to aid you in—" He drew his horse up sharply. "…Sir…ah…might it not be wise to, um, tie her hands?"

"What? Oh." Riko paused, uncertain as how to continue.

It would be much simpler to pass her off as a prisoner, much less trouble in the end. Once they returned to Esrai, he could explain things to the Jarrin and, at worst Del'rania would only spend a day or two in prison. On the other hand—barely two days later, her story still rang in his ears. Heironeous only knew how she would react if he let them tie her up, but he was certain the results would be explosive. Besides…it felt like a, a betrayal of some sort—to free her and come so far with her, only to let someone make her a prisoner once more. No matter that the soldiers were on their side—no, were on _his_ side. No matter that her treatment would be completely different from the kind she would have received at the hands of the drow or the slavers. It was the principle that mattered. And what difference would it make to Del'rania? She would still be a prisoner again.

The squad leader seemed to take his silence as acquiescence. "Rope," he demanded from one of the others. "If it would please you, sir," he continued, accepting a long length of strong rope from his soldiers, "We would be delighted to take her back to Esrai. Honestly, sir, I whole-heartedly congratulate you on your capture, of a _female_ no less. Despite all the recent drow activity, we have been unable to capture more than a few alive. They fight like hell or run."

"Get your dirty paws off of me, human!" Del'rania suddenly cried in Goblan, warding off the squad leader's questing hands.

Riko snapped out of his reverie. "Stop that, both of you," he commanded, restraining the angry drow and waving off the squad leader. The man had ridden up alongside him and was trying to tie her hands, right under his nose. He cursed himself for not paying more attention. "Squad leader—what was this about recent drow activity? I've been away for awhile, so I'm afraid you'll have to fill me in on the situation."

"Of course, sir. Um—this may take a while to explain. Might we stop for lunch, sir?"

"As you wish, squad leader."

They ate their rations in silence. Del'rania sat a few feet away from the soldiers, watching them as warily as they watched her. It was a tense gathering; the men were clearly displeased with the idea of letting the drow remain unbound. Their hands strayed towards their swords. They seemed ready to leap to their feet and grab the drow should she try to flee.

Eventually the squad leader drew him aside. They walked a few feet awayfrom the small clearing where they had eaten. Riko leaned against a large oak tree as the squad leader briefed him. "You wanted to hear about the current situation, sir…?"

"Of course."

"Sir, over the past few weeks, we've noticed a gradual rise in drow activity on the surface. They move in small numbers, no doubt to avoid detection—we don't know how many we've missed. Mostly they move at night—they seem to settle down into hiding during the daytime. They tend to be moving towards the west, towards the Ralgir Plains, though we're not so certain if that is indeed their destination."

Riko eyed Del'rania tensed against a tree trunk, ready to fight off the soldiers if need be. He knew exactly what those drow were looking for. _At least we're a step ahead of them. If they're still headed for the Plains, then they don't know that we're in the Forest yet. Yet._

"We believe that they are planning some sort of surface raid, possibly aimed at some sort of target on the Ralgir Plains, though of course we can only be certain once we finish interrogating our prisoners. But like I said, sir, we have very few prisoners, and they mostly refuse to talk. That's why your capture has the potential to be very important. We need more people to interrogate, and a female might well know more than a male. That said, sir," the man finished, "It would be a very good idea to bind the prisoner, don't you think, sir?"

Even as he spoke, shouts came from the clearing. Where he had left Del'rania. Riko sprang up, seizing the hilt of his sword. The squad lead grasped his shoulder with a restraining hand. "Sir, please—as I said, it is best if we tie her up. I have instructed my men to do so."

"You _what_?" Angrily he shook the man's hand of his shoulder and strode into the clearing.

Del'rania was propped up against a tree, bound hand and foot, gnashing her teeth at the soldiers and cursing them furiously in her language. Frustrated, Riko turned on the squad leader.

"Look, she's not a prisoner, squad leader—well, not exactly—I mean…" He trailed off, suddenly aware of what he was saying. The squad leader was giving him a strange look; his soldiers looked outright suspicious. Flushing, Riko bent to cut the ropes binding Del'rania's feet and marched her into the surrounding woods.

He shushed her even as she opened her mouth. "Del'rania, listen to me. It might be a good idea to just…_pretend_ you're a prisoner."

"_What_?"

"Because otherwise I'd probably have to explain everything," he went on, overriding her objections, "how I found you, the raid the other night, the _necklace_—do you want me to tell them about the necklace? No, I thought not," he finished, as her eyes widened in horror and she covered the necklace as best she could with her bound hands. "So I think it's best if you just go along quietly and pretend you _are_ a prisoner. I'll get you free once we reach Esrai—I'll talk to the Jarrin, promise I will. So—don't resist, okay?" She gave him a blank look. "Okay? Del'rania?" But she remained silent. "I'm taking that as a yes, okay?" When she still refused to answer, he seized her wrists. "Let's get back to the camp."

They returned in silence. The squad was waiting patiently for them to return. Without a word, Riko tied her feet once more. "I'm coming with you, squad leader," he said shortly. "You _are_ returning to Esrai, aren't you? But I'll be the one transporting the prisoner."

The man seemed taken aback. "As you say, sir."

"Then let's go." He lifted Del'rania—she was not very heavy—and carried her to Makia, tying her to the mare's saddle. "It's just for a few days," he murmured to her in Goblan. She gave him a bitter look. With a sigh, he heaved himself into the saddle. "Mount up, squad." The men moved to obey.

* * *

Dinner, too, was a silent affair. The soldiers seemed to remain suspicious of the outsider, no matter that he was a paladin. Del'rania was not much better.

"Doing okay?" he muttered to her as he handed her food to her.

"_Emarin hamini si'kul_," she mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

She gave him a sharp look. "_Emarin hamini si'kul_," she repeated, and would say no more.

* * *

"Tamariko. You return at last. How goes your travels?"

"Very well, sir." Two days later saw him kneeling before the Jarrin, eyes respectfully lowered. "Very well," he repeated. "Destroyed some ghouls that had taken up residence in a graveyard, skirmished with the forces of Hextor for a bit…The temple in Mordikan has grown in strength and it's starting to proselytize the surrounding villages, sir. Um…it may become a matter of concern in the future.

"You're too wishy-washy, Tamariko. Is it or isn't it a matter of concern?" the Jarrin demanded sharply.

"It is, sir." He hesitated, then added, "I'd advise strengthening our forces there, counter-proselytizing and such."

"Good boy." The man sat back.

Jarrin Oshid was a small man, old yet still quite strong. Sharp blue eyes dominated a hard, angular face. He had shaved his head a long time ago, yet a wispy white beard clung to his chin. Dressed in gold and white robes, he sat cross-legged on a small pedestal, examining Riko silently.

Eventually the Jarrin said, "You requested to speak with me as soon as you arrived. What is it that troubles you?"

"Sir…right before I came here, I freed a slave. In fact, I had to come here immediately, since I freed her in a particularly…conspicuous way."

"That was foolish of you, but good job all the same. Be more discreet next time."

"Yes, sir. The thing is, sir…she's a dark elf." Riko braced himself for a reprimand.

"Fascinating," replied the Jarrin, unpeturbed.

"Sir, it goes beyond that. You see, she—she has a very strange…necklace, sir." Riko told him of the entire journey—the escape, the attack, even Del'rania's story about the necklace. The Jarrin listened intently. "…and so I let them think she was a prisoner, sir, and we brought her back her and she's in a cell right now," he finished.

"Huh." If the man had any thoughts on the strange story, he did not say. "Does she know anything about the recent drow activity on the surface?"

"I don't think so, sir, but if you ask me, I think they're looking for her. She's terrified of them, I know that much, and for good reason, too. They want that necklace, sir, they want that necklace and they want her dead." Riko paused, then added cautiously, "Sir…is it okay for us to release her? Not into the forest, I mean, but let her leave the prison and stay here?"

"That may not be a wise thing to do, Tamariko," the Jarrin warned after a moment. "Are you so ready to trust her? She _is_ a drow, after all. Not to mention the fact that she will encounter hostility wherever she goes."

"I know, sir, but like I said, she's terrified of her own people. I doubt she'd even think of betraying us to the drow—the very idea of it would probably frighten the wits out of her." The Jarrin remained silent. "Sir…I—I promised her I'd get her out of prison. Please, sir, I guarantee that she's harmless."

The cleric did not answer for a while. "I'm holding you responsible for her, Tamariko," he said at last. "If she gets into trouble…you get her out of it. If she _does_ anything…kill her. Or at least throw her back into a cell. Do you understand me, Tamariko?"

He swallowed a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."

"Good." The Jarrin rose to leave.

Riko half-rose from his crouch. "Sir…one more thing."

The Jarrin eyed him over his shoulder. "Yes?" he asked, annoyed.

"Sir…did I do the right thing, rescuing her and bringing her here?"

Silence for a few moments. "What's bad for the drow is generally good for us," he replied, and vanished through the curtain.

* * *

She barely spoke to Riko, even after he came with the keys to her cell. He had tried to speak to her several times, but she had only responded in Drow, if at all, until he had given up and ceased to speak. The anger was beginning to recede, yet she still wished for some space between the two of them. The charade had been a reasonable, even a smart idea, yet it still felt like a betrayal in some obscure manner.

Most of her time was spent in her tiny room. It was probably even smaller than her cell, and barely furnished, but it was _her_ room—her one real place of refuge. Outside in the halls, she faced open hostility from the Temple's residents. Dark looks followed her through the halls, voices muttered curses in languages she did not know. People shied away from her as if she carried the plague.

But today, as always, she ignored the glares and murmurs, refused to notice the almost palpable enmity of the people surrounding her. Today, she passed them by with a confident stride, for today, for the first time since she had arrived, she was going outside.

She had felt the compulsion to leave the confining recesses of the Temple ever since she arrived, to bask in the warm sunshine and the cool shade. How strange it now seemed that she had hated the open, had cringed at the sun! How wonderful the forest truly was! The times when she had longed for the darkness of the Underdark seemed years ago—ages, even…

Del'rania stopped and shook her head. What was she thinking? Of course she missed the Underdark! She longed for it every day! Didn't she? …Didn't she? Del'rania looked deep inside herself and saw that no, she had ceased to yearn for its silent, rocky corridors, barely even thinking about it, now. No, thoughts of the Underdark had vanished within her, and new, stranger thoughts had taken its place. Thoughts not quite her own…She shivered, and began to walk once more, even faster than before. Best not to think of that; she already had far too much to worry about right now. Best to get outside. Everything would be better outside.

Finally she found the door and stepped out into the sunshine, deeply inhaling the heady scent of the woodlands. She held it for a moment, before slowly releasing it, relishing the wilderness. It felt…_good_ to be outside.

She wandered aimlessly around the compound, not caring where she went. The only thing that mattered was the way the sun shined, the trees waving gracefully in the wind, the birds singing their songs in one jumbled chorus…

Riko was following her again, she noticed irritably. He had the annoying tendency to appear wherever she was, silently watching her from a distance. Somehow, his presence felt like an intrusion, unlike any of the other beings about the grounds of the Temple; how dare he track her across the Temple and ruin her delight! She turned to face him directly and scowled furiously at him. He sighed, and came over.

* * *

"Del'rania—"

"Go away, Riko," she snapped, and Riko blinked in surprise. It was the first time she had said anything to him in Goblan since their encounter with the patrol. She cut him off even as he opened his mouth to speak. "Look, I'm really tired of you—_stalking_ me, okay? Just leave me alone. Go find someone else to bother."

His head jerked back at the curt dismissal, but his brow quickly darkened in anger. How dare she brush him off like that! "Now see here—" he began. "Del'rania, listen to me. You've had more than enough time to sulk by yourself. At least be—be _civil_ to me, okay? You're going to hear me out whether you like it or not. People don't like you here, in case you haven't noticed. They _really_ don't like you.

"I know that already, thanks very much."

"Look, you've heard about the recent drow raids, right?"

An irritated light flashed in her eyes. "Yes, of course I've heard about them, even though I barely understand anyone here," she replied sarcastically. "What raids?"

"A lot of them, that's what. Much more drow on the surface than normal, killing whoever they encounter, as usual. That's one of the reasons the Temple is so crowded. Refugees, see? Very bitter, angry refugees, no doubt suspicious of the drow wandering in their midst. You're not particularly safe here. Someone might attack you."

"Then why did you bring me here?" she cried.

"Because I knew you'd be safer here than you would out there. The reason why I've been…'stalking' you, as you so eloquently put it," he continued, "is because the Jarrin assigned me to you. To protect you." He didn't mention that he was also there to make sure she did no harm.

"Who is this 'jarrin'?" she queried.

"The head cleric. I talked to him. About you."

"What—what did you tell him?" Her voice trembled slightly with suspicion.

"Everything, Del'rania. Everything."

For a moment she was silenced completely, blank shock and horror spanning her face. Finally she found her voice. "You—did—_what_!"

"I told him everything," he repeated. She began to turn away and he seized her shoulder. "Del'rania, I had to. He has a right to know who he's taking in under his roof—no, he _needs_ to know who he's taking in. Besides, he's a cleric, a very good one. He may know what the necklace is. Don't you want to find out? Don't you want help?"

She stared at him for a moment. Suddenly she pulled away with a grimace. "Get your hands off me, human," she snarled. "Stay away from me—I can take perfect care of myself." Furious, she whirled away.

Riko hurried after her. "Look, Del'rania," he snapped, growing irritated again, "I can't very well hide something so important like this from my superior! You know as well as I that those drow are looking for you and that necklace! It's got to be of some significance. I _do_ have certain duties as a paladin, you know. I know you want to keep this secret, and for good reason to, but I'm obligated to tell the Jarrin things like this. It's not like I've told all of Esrai!"

Del'rania came to such an abrupt halt that he actually walked a few steps past her. "I don't think I made myself very clear, human," she said coldly. "I said: get away from me. Stop following me around. Leave me _alone_, and stop bothering me." She pushed him back and darted away.

He stared, openmouthed, as the small dark figure vanished back into the Temple. Shock faded to anger. "Fine," he growled, deliberately turning on his heel and walking in the other direction.

* * *

A week passed, spent almost entirely in her room. Eventually loneliness drove her out to wander the Temple's compound, wishing for someone to talk to. Riko had ceased to follow her at first, but eventually she sighted him tracking her again, no doubt driven by his sense of _duty_, she thought sneeringly. Clearly he did not enjoy his job. They never spoke to each other, barely acknowledging the other's presence, as if each merely happened to be in the same room.

She began to spend more and more time in the small library. Although she could speak many dialects of the Underdark, she had never bothered to learn to read until Sus'sarins insisted that she learn to read Drow so that she could understand written orders. The library had no books written in Drow, needless to say, but it was one of the few places where she felt unthreatened by the people surrounding her. Most of the occupants were scholars absorbed in their work who barely noticed her existence. In the rest of the Temple, however, a dark hatred accompanied her wherever she went, so terrible that she was surprised that no one had attacked her yet. Certainly there had been several "accidents"-someone sticking their foot out to trip her, or "stumbling" into her, even a stone once (though Riko had quickly put a stop to that, she hated to admit).

Usually Del'rania browsed through the books, choosing them at random and looking at the pictures. Today, though, she was examining a book she had found written in Drowish script. It was not the first time she had come across such a text, but this one had sparked her interest, and she was paging through it, eagerly hunting for pictures. The language was similar to Drow, that much she could tell; several times she picked out words that sounded akin to some word in Drow.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she jumped, slamming the book shut. Furious, she shrugged the hand away and turned to berate Riko for bothering her.

It was not Riko but a dreamy-looking spectacled human scholar, jabbering at her in the humans' trade language and thrusting a book at her. She snarled at him in her own language, and moved away. The short man moved after her, frowning vaguely. "You…not speak Common…what you speak?" he asked eventually in heavily accented Undercommon.

Del'rana was so startled that she actually came to a halt. She had never encountered a human who spoke Undercommon and had assumed that none spoke the language. The man repeated his question, and when she did not answer, asked her worriedly, "You speak Undercommon, yes? You drow…you speak Undercommon, yes? Drow speak Undercommon, yes? And you drow, see?" He reached up and tugged herdark, pointed ear.

Del'rania snapped out of her stupor, livid at the indignity. "Of course I speak Undercommon, you miserable little human," she growled, slapping the man's hand away.

The man's face lit up, so that she wondered if he had understood a word she had said. "Good, good, good. Read." He thrust the book at her once more.

She stared first at it, then at him. "I can't read it, you fool."

"Ohhh…" His face fell. "Bad, very bad…what language you speak? Draconic? Giantish? Orcish? Goblan?"

"No, no, no, n—what?"

"Aha!" he cried, triumphant. He seized her arm and towed her over to his table, talking at lightning speed in Goblan. "Should have known, shouldn't I have, after all, the nasty little buggers get everywhere, don't they, everyone has to learn their gibberish if only to deal with the dirty beasts. Like rats, they are."

"Look, man," she finally said, "I don't care what you want, I'm not—"

"Now listen," he continued, ignoring her, "I'll read what this book says and you're going to tell me what it means, okay? I don't know that much Undercommon, just learning, really, and I've been looking for a translator formonths. Do you know how few people on the surface actually speak the language? _So_ frustrating. I've been wondering whether to wait until I leave for the Underdark, thank the gods I found you…" He trailed off, looking for his place. "'_The duergar are well known for their animosity to the rest of the dwarven race_,'" he read carefully in Undercommon, and looked at her expectantly. "Well? What does it mean?"

She stared at him, wondering at his obliviousness. "I don't think you understand," she replied, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "I'm not going to translate this for you. Go bother someone else."

"Of course you are. Don't be ridiculous. It'll take forever for me to find someone else, didn't you just hear what I just said?"

"But I—"

"Do you want me to reread the sentence? Maybe a bit slower? '_The duergar are well known for their animosity to the rest of the dwarven race_,'" he repeated, even more slowly than before.

"Look, human—"

"Is it too hard? Just say so. We can try the next sentence. So…?"

"Now, see here—"

"'_Some compare the rivalry to the only other famous interracial conflict, that of the drow and the elves._'" He paused, waiting for her answer.

Del'rania sighed and gave up. "Fine, I'll translate your damn book," she said grudgingly. "But just this one day, okay?"

"Excellent," the man said with a sweet smile. "And what did those last two sentences mean…? I know they were talking about the rivalry between the duergar and the dwarves…"

Rolling her eyes, she translated the two sentences.

They worked all afternoon on the text. Jinz (which was his name) was studying the cultures of the Underdark, she soon learned. The book, written by a dwarf, chronicled the entirety of dwarven civilization, "revealing ever so much about the species," the man had informed her excitedly. From the way the human eyed her, she could tell that he was itching to badger her about her life in Zorin'zaal.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" Jinz demanded as she rose to leave for dinner, stomach rumbling. "We made excellent progress today, I'm sure you'll do wonderfully tomorrow." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "So, tomorrow, yes?"

"Wha…tomorrow? Don't be ridiculous." She stared at him incredulously.

"Oh…" His face fell. Then it lit up once more. "Well, two days from now? Any time you wish, really, I'm free all the time."

"I don't think you understand, human," she said wearily. "I am not going to work with you tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. I said I was only going to translate for you today, remember?" She turned on her heel and began to walk to the door.

"But…wait!" He raced after her and stationed himself right in front of her. "Please, won't you at least consider it? I couldn't have gotten anywhere today without you. You're positively priceless. It's been an honor to work with you, really." His eyes were pleading.

With a roll of her eyes, she pushed him aside and walked by. "At least think about it!" he yelled after her. Something tickled her mind, and she shook her head muzzily, both to relieve the sensation and in reply to him.

She had nearly left the library when it hit her. A wave of dizziness slammed into her, nausea churning in her stomach. Del'rania gasped and clutched the doorpost for support, seeing only spots. A dull throb pounded against her left temple and she whimpered in pain. An alien presence probed her mind, cruelly parsing her memories, looking for something…

_No…can't let it find…shouldn't be here…get it out…_Del'rania staggered, gripping the doorpost tightly. _…violating me…out! Get out!_ With all her strength, she—_pushed_—

—Spots swirled, the world reeled and

* * *

"Del'rania? Del'rania?" A familiar voice. Someone slapping her cheeks.

She was in her bed in her room, sick and tired. Darkness surrounded her.

"Del'rania? _Keshrik slarr_?" Tired, she did not bother to answer, only grunting softly. After a moment, arms encircled her, beginning to lift her, and she shifted impatiently, waving the help off. "Naw, naw, Riko, _slarri_, _slarri_," she groaned, and opened her eyes.

For a moment she felt disoriented—_Where am I? Why am I not in my room?_—before reality asserted itself. She was in the library, lying on the ground. Riko crouched over her, any antagonism long since replaced with concern shining clear on his face.She closed her eyes for a moment,feeling genuinely grateful for his presence for the first time.Behind him, Jinz watched her, shocked and uncertain.

"Del'rania, are you okay? Can you stand? Walk?I can get you to the infirmary—" He reached out again to pick her up.

"No, Riko, I'm fine, really I am. Please, don't bother." Slowly, carefully she sat up. "What happened?"

"You fainted."

"Oh…"

He leaned in close. "Del'rania—does this…fit have anything to do with—you know—" he whispered.

She shook her head, still feeling a little dizzy. "No…I don't think so…" _Yes_, she should have said, _Someone was in my mind…looking for the necklace_. Yet somehow she still felt unwilling to tell him the truth. Riko gazed at her, eyes wide and worried. He rose from his squat and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Your nose is bleeding." He placed his hand over her nose. Cool white light flared, she felt a slight pang, and her nose cleared up and ceased to run red. "Thanks," she repeated.

Slowly she pulled away and stumbled back to the door. "Are you sure you're okay?" Riko asked, following after her.

"Yeah…I think…just a little light-headed and tired…" _And nauseous,_ she added mentally as her stomach roiled. "Think I'll go back to my room and go to sleep…"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Go ahead. You're already following me around," she muttered, too tired to argue the point, and stumbled out of the Library.

* * *

Lixarin broke the connection and sat back with a smile, fondling the communication ring. So the heretic _had_ managed to escape Tis'ganath's troops and make it to the false god's temple, with the help of that human companion of hers, no doubt. A lover? Almost certainly; the heretic did not have much else to pay for services but her own assets. So. If she played her cards carefully now, she would end with the heretic's head, while Tis'ganath would be ruined, bringing her House with her, hopefully.

Her finger crept up to a simple gold ring hanging from her ear, the earring that all Council members used to speak to each other. Quietly she murmured the spell to herself.

There was a short pause before Tis'ganath answered. "Yes?" came the irritated voice of the _kismatin_-Shaltiel in her ear.

"Tis'ganath, _dear_," Lixarin purred, "I have bad news for you…"

* * *

God, it's been ages since I last updated! There's no excuse for this, just plain procrastination. I'm so sorry, dearest readers, you really don't deserve this long a wait! Please forgive me! prostrates herself to the readers This chapter came out pretty long though (ten whole pages!)—I hope you don't mind. It's sort of an intermediate chapter, I guess—everyone pretty much takes a short break from the recent action. Well, maybe you see it another way, but that's how I've thought of it. I have to warn you, though, it may be a while before I update in the future. I'm not so sure how I'm going to do the next chapter, plus I need to write a story for my submission to a writing camp. But I'm pretty disappointed in myself, so I'm going to make a special effort to get this done soon.

Oh yes. What Del'rania said earlier in the story in Drow was "Humans are all the same." Later on, Riko says, "Are you awake?" in Goblan, and she responds, "I'm awake, I'm awake." I think I'll make a glossary at the end of this fanfiction.


	7. Ascencion

After two weeks, Del'rania had adapted to her surroundings, and her surroundings, in turn had grown used to her. People continued to give her dark looks in the hallways, but there had been no "accidents" the past few days, and, in a way, she had found her own place in the Temple. For Jinz did not know the meaning of the word no. He followed her around for several days, badgering her to aid him further in his translation efforts, pleading, demanding, begging, bribing, and, in short, harassing her until she gave in out of sheer exhaustion. Men in Zorin'zaal did not behave like this, even to a commoner sneak like her. Commoner men knew their place, and nobles had far subtler ways to get what they wanted. In some ways, though, it was almost…flattering. Someone aside from Riko wanted her here. That was strangely comforting.

Today they were covering a chapter detailing dwarven relations with other races of the Underdark. Del'rania grew more and more annoyed as she translated the part about the drow; the section was full of ridiculous inaccuracies. By the time they reached the part explaining the sacrifice of dwarven captives, supposedly dictated to the author by some escaped prisoner, she had had enough of the nonsense. "I'm sick of this!" she snapped at Jinz, waving her hand at the book, "It's all _shochai_!"

"_Shochai_?" the man repeated dubiously, raising an eyebrow at the drow curse. "Would you care to explain what, exactly, is incorrect about this information?"

"Everything!" she cried, completely missing the trap in his words. "Like this idiocy about sacrificing captives, that's blasphemy, d'you know that? Only drow are permitted to offer themselves up to—_urk—_" She broke off, coughing furiously.

Jinz waited patiently for her to finish. When she looked up, she found him eyeing her expectantly. "Do continue," he said.

And so began another aspect of her "scholastic pursuits" (as Jinz termed them): the frequent interviews about her life. At first she answered his questions only reluctantly; however, she soon realized that most of his questions were harmless and of innocent intent. Usually he asked about her life, and Zorin'zaal, and religion, especially religion. Were there cults devoted to any other gods in Zorin'zaal? Was Del'rania a cleric herself? Stupid questions, through and through. Did she sound educated to him? But she was no fool, and she answered only the questions she deemed safe enough to answer, and then only guardedly. Knowledge was money, and no matter how naïve Jinz behaved, she could never be quite certain what he would do with her answers. Still, she grew used to him, even occasionally enjoying their sessions together.

And thus two weeks passed in peace.

Del'rania slept.

_They were surrounded, backed into a corner with enemies all around. They huddled together, for protection and for warmth, for the night was cold and her companions were unclothed. And for comfort too, for when the protecting moon set, the enemy would come and devour them all. She clutched at her companions, frightened, and they patted her and stroked her hair, cuddling her as if she were but a babe. _

"_The Goddess will protect us," said one, gently chiding her for her fear. "We have faced worse, and yet survived."_

"_What goddess?" she demanded angrily. For the first time, she realized that this was one of _those_ dreams that haunted her nights, and found that she was furious with these strange maidens hijacking her sleep. "What goddess shields us from their wrath, hmm?" She waved her hand at the masses waiting outside their refuge._

_The others stared at her, faces unreadable. "Little one is growing up," one said at last. She shook her head in wonder. "In such a short time!"_

_Another raised her head to look at the night sky. "Moonset comes," she said softly. The others nodded. The speaker stepped forward and pressed her lips to the angry one's forehead. "Blessings, sister," she murmured, and leapt into the sky, evaporating instantly into moonlight._

"_Wha—wait!" cried the angry one, afraid once more. "C-come back! Don't—don't leave me here!"_

_The others shook their heads, muttering and chuckling a little. Another stepped up and seized the angry one's head. "Blessings, sister." And she too leapt into the sky._

_One by one they came to her, kissed her forehead, bestowed their blessings on her, and vanished into the sky. She trembled as they came, frightened by the bizarre ritual, and astonished by her companions' disappearance into the sky. "Come back!" she called after them. "Show me—how are you—where can I go?" But the few remaining refused to answer as they trailed by._

_Finally, only one lingered behind. "I was the one who picked you. You face your first real test. Do not prove me wrong, little Raine!" she said in a fierce undertone. "Blessings, sister." And then the angry one was left alone._

"_Don't leave me here!" she shouted at the empty sky. "Come back, damn you! I'm alone and I'm afraid…" The words died on her tongue. It was useless. Shivering, she hugged herself against the cold._

_On the horizon, the moon set._

_Shaking, the one called Raine turned to face the enemy's onslaught._

Del'rania awoke, gasping for breath, sweat streaming down her face. _They_ had returned, returned to attack the one place she had thought was safe. Only this time they were an army, and they would wipe out everyone here. Everyone, all to ensure that she died. The men who cursed her, the women who muttered dark things. The Temple children who snickered, even jeered when she passed. With a curse she pulled herself from her sheets. She had to get out of here! Dressing quickly, Del'rania gathered herself and crept out into the dark hallways.

But even as she hurried down the hallways, something in her rejected her chosen course. _They'll surround the Temple,_ she found herself thinking. _There's no way you can get out, at least not alone. And what about Riko? What about the others in the Temple? Can I just…ABANDON them to die at the hands of MY pursuers? _What about them, indeed. She had found refuge here, after all, even if the people had only reluctantly acquiesced to her presence. It did not feel…right…somehow to simply abandon the Temple to its fate. Muttering further profanities, she changed directions and headed for the paladin's quarters. The soldiers and the clerics would listen to Riko. It would only take a couple of minutes to warn them, and then they would be gone.  
He had shown her where they were located, the day he let her out of her cell. "This is where my room is," he had told her. "If you ever need me, come here."

Several minutes later she found the arch with the stylized sword of lightning above it. Easing through it, Del'rania eyed the various doors presenting themselves to her, numbered one through twenty. _Now what was his room number again?_ She paced back and forth, running a hand through her hair, trying to remember, all to no use.

_The only thing to do is to check each room until I find the right one…with my luck, all the doors will be locked. _Scowling fiercely, Del'rania turned towards the nearest door, the largest and fanciest of the lot, Room #1.

Trelle Shi'ranne was a hard man, given to a strict discipline that he imposed on himself and on the paladins under his administration at Esrai. As the head paladin, he was in charge of the forces stationed at the temple, and was frequently kept up working by candlelight long past First Bell, as was the case tonight, especially in times of unrest, like now. He had been reviewing since dinner reports received from scouts, patrols, and the paladins in the field. There were several skirmishes with the drow on the Ralgir Plains, but they appeared to be retreating back into the Forest, hopefully to return back to the stony Underdark they had come from. Still, according to his calculations, there were quite a few dark elves remaining in the Forest, hundreds perhaps. Refugees continued to pour in, either fleeing an attack, or fleeing in _fear_ of one. But that was not his problem, thank Heironeous.

The door creaked slightly, and he leapt to his feet, grabbing his sword. Very few doors in Esrai were locked, based on the concept that Trust should be widespread throughout a Temple of Heironeous. But the small temple bell had already tolled once—soon it would be Second Bell—and no one had any business wandering the halls at this time of the night. The door had been opened only a crack, but that was enough by his standards. Someone had been spying on him.

He moved quietly to the door, then flung it open suddenly, hoping to catch the sneak in the act. At first he could see nothing, but as he scanned the wall, he noticed that the door to Room #2 (currently unoccupied) had been slightly opened—and that someone with a mass of silvery hair was flattening themselves against the wall.

"You!" he growled, seizing the collar of the drow's shirt and crushing her against the wall. "I should have known!"

Trelle had been delighted when he learned that Tamariko had brought back a female drow prisoner when he returned from his most recent _sae'kun_, and furious when he learned that the man then convinced Oshid to release her. He had argued angrily with the Jarrin against her release, but Oshid had refused to listen even to his plea to interrogate her first. "We already know all we need to know about her," was all he said. The Jarrin usually kept his own council, a fact that occasionally annoyed Trelle. But the release of a drow during such troublesome times (especially considering that those troubles were caused by drow) truly infuriated him. Frustrated, Trelle had done his best to keep an eye on the dark elf, memorizing her room's location and ordering Riko to tell him her movements. It was the reasonable thing to do, he thought, but Riko seemed affronted by the demand, and complied very reluctantly, giving only the barest details. That he had found the dark elf spying on him during the night only proved the worst of his suspicions.

The drow gibbered at him in Goblan, a language he did not speak. "_Taeki, taeki! Idr k'vikvi ni'slarr, zuri! Idr sikt ee,_ please_! Mikka'i t'Riko!_"

"What the hell were you doing here, sneaking through these halls and spying on us?" he snapped. "And for gods' sake, speak a normal language!" he added as she continued to jabber.

"_Mikka'i t'Riko, zuri! Slitza-ku slarr iki d'kush roh_, please_! Kyrinin dri!_"

He pulled her away from the wall, swiveling her around to face the exit. "Go on, get out of here. You have no business being here, especially at this time of night." She squirmed out of his grip and tried to dodge around him, but he blocked her at every move.

"_K'zuxa'an dhao'rissen, a'shakshi'an xu mi-Jheselaan! Kuva ee d'kush Riko d'tuvrin roh! Vash-ku isa!_"

"Enough of this nonsense!" he exclaimed. Pointing beyond the archway, he said slowly and clearly, "Out." She shook her head. "Out!" he repeated, shaking his finger. She shook her head again. Trelle closed his eyes, massaging a temple in frustration. He did not need some insolent, obstinate drow sneaking around and spying on him at night. "Out," he said one last time, "or I'll take you back to your room myself." When she did not move, he seized her shoulder and marched her through the doorway. She struggled, dragging her feet and cursing him furiously.

It took him fifteen minutes to haul her back to her room. "You're staying here the rest of the night, drow," he growled, pointing at her and at the floor. She gave him a malevolent look. "Here. Do you understand me? _Here_." He jabbed at the floor several times to make sure. "If you leave—kkkt!" He slashed his throat with his finger. "Understand?"

"_Jha'kuul raitza, nu jha'suul eilai!_" she spat.

Halfway out the door, he paused. Should he bind her? It was quite possible that she would still try to escape. But tying her seemed a little extreme. Yet he fully intended to bring her before the Jarrin tomorrow, and as the head paladin he had a responsibility to the rest of Esrai…With a sigh, Trelle tore a strip from his tunic and returned to tightly tie her hands behind her back before leaving the room.

He was half the way back to his room when he heard the explosion.

Del'rania had waited for the man's footsteps to fade before going to work on the knots. The man knew his knots, but she had escaped worse. Undoing knots was a survival skill for sneaks.

It took her several minutes to loosen the knots, and two more to completely free herself. Rubbing her wrists to get the circulation going again, she got to her feet and crept out the door.

Should she get Riko, or leave by herself? Too much time had passed, but to leave him without at least warning him…but that, that _man_ might catch her again, and the gods only knew what he would do to her…She shivered, squeezing her shoulders. She could still feel his hands, _gripping_ her…But to abandon Riko…Frustrated, she hurried in the direction of the paladin rooms again. If that man _touched_ her again, she would fight, _really_ fight, or at least run before he saw her. _Riko, you owe me for this…_

And then she heard the explosion.

Del'rania froze, then broke into a run. The time for secrecy was over. _They_ were here at last, here to slaughter the Temple and her.

People spilled into the hallway as she ran, shouting and screaming. Another explosion shook the Temple, and the occupants moaned.

By the time she reached the paladins' rooms, men were already tumbling forth from their, longswords gleaming in their hands. A frightening thought occurred to her—what if he had already left? She would have to escape alone, and now she was unsure she could flee successfully without help…

A mailed and grabbed her and spun her around. She screamed in surprise—a passing paladin gave her an odd look—Riko was shouting something at her over the noise.

"What?"

"I said, you have to get out of here. Look. Esrai has been attacked before. There's a secondary exit near the library. They'll be herding the refugees there. Escape with that group. Um. You might want to leave the main group after a few days…no one will want a drow around after this…"

"Okay, let's go." She grabbed his hand and pulled, but Riko stayed put.

"I don't think you understand, Del'rania. My duty is to protect the innocent. You are leaving; I am staying behind." He patted her on the back, almost playfully. "Start running, little drowling. You'd best get out of here as soon as possible." He turned and strode after the other paladins.

Del'rania stared after him. "Are you insane? Riko? You're going to die!"

He didn't respond, and vanished around a corner.

With a curse, Del'rania broke into a sprint towards the library.

Soon running became impossible as people filled the halls. Women screamed, men panicked, children wailed and threw tantrums. Over the hysteria throbbing through the corridors, soldiers shouted instructions or perhaps information—Del'rania could not tell, nor did she care.

A cleric suddenly appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He bellowed over the noise, his voice magnified by magic, and the crowd quieted immediately, people wincing and rubbing their ears. Slowly, the cleric, backed by the soldiers herded the mob towards the eastern sector of the Temple, sweeping Del'rania along with it.

They were evacuating the Temple, she realized as they moved. No doubt their destination was the secondary exit Riko had told her about. Yes, there were the doors to the library…For now, she was satisfied to drift along with the crowd. After they got out, she would leave the refugees…and keep running. Perhaps she could find refuge somewhere else—somewhere far from here.

Someone was shouting her name over the hubbub. Del'rania paused, looking around for the speaker. A hand seized her arm, roughly hauling her through the horde. As they cleared the mob, she recognized Jinz. He pulled her through the half-open door to the library—why were the doors opened at this hour?—and shoved her against the wall.

"Jinz—wha—"

The dagger slid into her gut with a soft thunk. She groaned as he withdrew it and plunged it into her again, face impassive. An assassin, she dimly realized, as he destroyed her vitals one by one. Del'rania sank the floor, defeated. They had caught up to her at last, she thought vaguely. A silver light flashed suddenly beneath her neck, filling the room with light momentarily, and she tumbled into darkness.

WELL, WELL. THE NEWEST SAAN'RAINE'CUNTA. You are an odd choice, child.

She floated in the far reaches of space, surrounded by darkness; it was not that she not blind, she realized, but rather that there was nothing to see. "Am I dead?"

Yes and no. You are between worlds, child; I took your soul here just before you died. Do not worry about your body; time is different here. Between the ticks of a clock, as you mortals say.

She shuddered at the immense…_presence_. "You…you're a g-god, aren't you?" she stammered, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. A frightening idea seized her. "Y-you're n-n-not—not—"

I most certainly am not that…spider demoness. No, I am much…much…different. I am Eilistraee, goddess of the night skies and of the hunt. Lady of the drow who choose good over the evil of Lolth, who brave the light for the glory of the surface world. And you are wearing the necklace I wove from my hair and starlight. Child, do you know what you are?

"N-no."

That is no surprise. You are not what is usually chosen, but in desperate times…Well. Sielda came from the Underdark too, and she turned out very well indeed.

"Sielda?" She recalled the name from childhood stories; a woman abhorred and reviled for her sins, demonized as a traitor to her race. Children were still threatened with her name, and no one would ever give their daughter that name.

Yes. Sielda. I see you recognize the name. Mm. She was the one who chose you.

"Chose me? What do you mean?"

The spirits of past bearers inhabit the Raine'miande, as I'm sure you've noticed.

"Spirits inhabit—_what_? _Those were the women haunting my dreams_!"

But of course. "Training" is the best way to describe what they were doing. You show great potential as a Saan'raine'cunta, But you must be prepared to take the role.

"_Saan'raine'cunta_? What—what is that? And—what does it have to do with me?"

You are the Saan'raine'cunta, child. Or the intended one. Do you accept the burden?

"What…what happens if I don't?"

I shall take your soul to the next world, and move your body to where my followers shall find it. You will die, in other words.

"…And if I do accept?"

You become the Saan'raine'cunta, of course. My chosen, to lead my followers, to fight the hordes of Lolth, to tend to those who choose to walk in the light. You have a long ways to go before then…but you do have potential. And I shall guide you along the way. Do you accept the burden?

Del'rania swallowed hard. The obvious decision was to choose life, but with the responsibilities that bore…She had never even _heard_ of this goddess before. How could she become the de facto leader of some obscure sect she knew nothing about?

Do not worry about that. You shall not be expected to take on full responsibility immediately. You are only a mortal, after all.

Del'rania jumped at the answer to her unasked question. _But of course_, she realized. _She can read my mind._

Accepting the burden is only the first step. Even now, my other daughters make their way towards you, feeling the call of the Raine'miande. You've led them on quite a merry chase so far. They will assist you…should you choose. And the spirits of the past have been helping you all along. Though once you accept, you'll be expected to access them on your own, rather than waiting for them to come to you in your dreams. And _I_ will be there, of course. You will be provided for, have no fear.

"That's…that's good to know…" And if she accepted, she would hold great power, power to make any Archpriestess envy her. Admittedly, her followers' numbers would be much smaller, but the necklace—what did the goddess call it?—the _raine'miande_ would be a mighty weapon, once she learned to harness its powers. The incident with the raiding party had been but a taste of its great potential. Once she might have leapt at the opportunity, but now…now she wondered.

_And that is what this, this necklace has done to me,_ she realized. _I'm so…different now…even if I could refuse and survive somehow, I would never be the same…and I could never return home…destined to live on the surface forever…An outcast from drow society, and what surface dweller would accept a dark elf into their home?_ She had seen the hatred they bore her, yes, and held that same hatred for them in her heart. Riko might help her, but…

_But this is ridiculous. If I don't accept the goddess's offer, I'll die, and as for Riko…he'll die too, covering the refugees' escape…_

"What about the Temple?" she demanded. "What will happen to it if I refuse?"

It will fall, of course, unless Heironeous should choose to interfere directly. Such intervention is unlikely, though, given the small role of Esrai in the great scheme of things. Some of the refugees will escape. Most of the warriors and the clerics will die, if not all. Including that human you've been traveling with—all of the paladins are staying behind to give the civilians time to escape.

"But—but the drow came here for me! I mean, it's my fault they're here! Shouldn't you do something?"

It is not my temple, and it is not my business to interfere, unless Heironeous sanctions it. Now, child—make your decision.

Del'rania shivered. So much bore on this decision. It was tempting indeed to forget all the trouble and drift into eternal sleep, but…

But.

There was so that should have been done, that needed to be done, and she did not like leaving matters unfinished.

"Alright. I accept," she murmured at last.

Excellent. Your body is a bleeding wreck with only seconds left to live, but that problem is easily taken care of.

The _presence_ began to…condense, to coalesce into the shape of a giant nude drow female surrounded by billows of Her silvery white hair. The moon was Her crown, and in the quiver at Her side, starlight formed Her arrows. Terrified, Del'rania drew back, but the goddess reached forward to press Her lips to her forehead, whispering like the night winds.

Go forth, daughter, and send my fire unto my enemies. Remember, daughter, your name is _Raine_.

The darkness exploded with silver light.

Existence was an agony. Lying in red darkness, she could feel her life draining away with her heart's blood. She struggled for air, barely breathing, gurgling as her lungs deflated. Despite everything, she opened her eyes, to stare blankly into a pair of bright blue eyes hovering above her face. A hand was descending in slow motion to slit her throat.

She…tingled.

And gasped, as wounds knit together with lightning speed. Lost blood regenerated itself, ruined organ began to function, bodily fluids began to flow. A new vividness saturated her senses; her awareness grew and expanded.

The pale face above her frowned in annoyance. The dagger drifted closer. A bead dangled from a string around a neck.

She knit her brow, surveying the face with a canny eye. There was something, something _wrong_ about the face…

She realized what was wrong, and decided to amend it.

A dark hand shot out and seized the wrist, twisting until the dagger dropped from nerveless fingers, squeezing until she heard a sickening crunch. Another hand grabbed the bead and broke the string with a quick, sharp jerk.

Instantly the illusion fell away. Blood-red eyes met hers now, widened in shock, staring from a dark face.

The bead crumbled in her fist. She held out her hand, as if in greeting, and silver fire shot forth, hitting him in the stomach. The body flew backwards, hit a bookshelf, and sank to the floor with a groan. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air.

Slowly she rose to her feet. Silver fire flowed down her arm, down her body, burning away her clothes in holy purity. She leapt into the air, punching through the roof into the night sky like a fiery comet.

Raine had Awoken.

Miles away, a small procession hurries through the woods. Dark hands flicker in fingerspeak; red eyes examine the surrounding trees. Occasionally, lips move in a language rarely spoken on the surface.

Six of the party are women, and nine are men. The women wear short silver tunics, embroidered in black, and three of them carry bows. The men all wear uncannily silent mithral chain, hefting their longswords with the air of a veteran. They are drow, and they are searching for something.

Jenemaia Sal'savia, _misokun_ of the Laedia Temple, is very old, in her fourth century, but she moves as spryly as a young elf—a small blessing from her goddess. She has led her small temple for nearly 150 years, but nothing on this scale has ever happened in her reign or in those of her last thirty predecessors. Ever since Raine Isi'mende vanished in the depths of the Underdark, the Daughters of Eilistraee have held that the Starlit Lady will return, ushering in a new era of glory for Lady Silverhair. Jenemaia, always a sensible person, knows that such grand messianic ideas are delusional—the Starlit Lady is only a mortal, after all—but she has sworn to seek out the new Raine herself and see the elfwoman with her own eyes. _Matters will grow mighty exciting, now that Raine has returned_, she thinks. _The queen is back on the chessboard now._

Because she is the one most attuned to the divine realms in the little group, she is hit the hardest by the ripples left by the Awakening. The other priestesses drop to their knees, clutching their head and looking wildly about, fingering prayer beads nervously. Jenemaia falls to the ground, prostrate. The men crouch over the females, frightened by their sudden affliction and eager to learn its cause. Sessamin Itzil, their leader, kneels by Jenamaia, patting her on her back with old familiarity. The _misokun_ is murmuring an unending stream of prayers in a shaky voice. He has never seen her so unnerved.

"Jenemaia, _ne'emasu altai_, what is the matter? What has happened?"

"She's coming," the priestess says, sounding her full four hundred years. "The Lady is coming." She will say no more.

For miles around, devotees of the gods stumble, stop, stare. Something has happened; something has awoken; something has changed. They feel the difference and shudder.

At Esrai, the effect is staggering.

An eerie silence falls across the battlefield as combatants freeze and raise their eyes to the heavens. Then the drow cry out, their eyes burned by the blinding light.

A woman floats there, clad only in silver fire, as if a goddess has come down to enter the conflict. She surveys the fighters, and her eyes are the eyes of a Huntress.

"_You've come too late_," she smiles, and sends down her fire, burning into the center of the drow army.

And now the drow are running, fleeing the terrible fire of her wrath, but she follows, throwing bolt after bolt into the retreating army. Commanders shout orders and are ignored. Those who fall are trampled underfoot. The few mobile clerics are swallowed by the woods along with the rest of the army, swearing the awful vengeance of Lolth.

As they flee, the flame in the sky wavers and dims. The woman plunges across the sky, plummeting to earth like a fallen star.

Some of the defenders pursue the drow, but most stay behind, to bury the dead and comfort the living. The battle is won, but at dreadful cost.

As they move to salvage the Temple, one of the men looks up, following the woman's descent as she drops. He nods, marking the place where she falls in his mind, and returns to his work.

Insider the half-destroyed Temple, a body stirs. It curls into a ball, whimpering in agony. Fumbling in a hidden pocket, it pulls out a flask, uncorks it and drinks deeply. Finishing the potion, it throws the bottle aside, and it rolls to crack against a bookshelf. After a minute, it gingerly pushes itself to its feet and quietly makes its way out of the building. In the chaos, no one notices the figure slip away into the night.


	8. Farewells

Even the little sunlight that filtered through the leaves still hurt his eyes, he noted with disgust. It had been decades since he had last been on the surface, and now he would have to re-adjust. An annoyance, if a minor one.

One did not usually find dark elves sitting in trees, but Zranid was never a usual drow. Deftly balancing on a thick branch, leaning against the trunk, he reflected on the events of the past week. That he had failed was certain. What that meant was another story.

Targets had escaped his initial attack before. No, that was not what angered him; he had always hunted them down later. A victim's survival only indicated a greater challenge. Nor was it the fact that she had recovered from the brink of death. Powerful people always kept some sort of healing magic about them, and this Del'rania was clearly much more than she appeared to be. And it was certainly not that she had hurt him so badly. Assassination is a dangerous business, as he knew all too well; he always carried powerful potions with him as a precaution.

But that she should defeat him in _seconds_, leaving him nearly dead with such burn wounds—!

Such a debacle had not occurred in a century. He was far too good for such nonsense. It was a dreadful insult, and a mark against his record, a problem that would have to be amended. Once more he examined the course of events.

It had been quite simple to find the location of the temple. Happening to chance across one of the lightskins, he had captured the filthy little grub and tortured it until it had told him the location of the temple. The sounds it had made were delightful, music that echoed in his ears long after he had killed it and destroyed the body.

He arrived a few days before the human dragged in the target, disguised as a wandering scholar. A long time had passed since he had last worn the identity of Jinz, but he had assumed it with ease, relishing the opportunity to play a surface dweller. By the time dear little Del'rania had staggered into the temple, he had already worked out several general plans for her execution. By the end of the week, he was sure he had at least two good methods of assassination.

Yet he had stayed his hand, curious about his wilted drowling of a target. Almost all of his assignments were powerful people; how could _anyone_ feel threatened by this broken female? Yet not only Lixarin but the _entire Council_ wanted her head for some closely-guarded reason, as he had discovered in his preliminary research into the woman. She was, to all accounts, an unimportant thief of some minor talent, employed by House Sus'sarin, nothing close to the likes of Lixarin; what had she done to provoke the wrath of the most powerful women in the city?

So he had approached her, in the personality of Jinz, and, eager for company, she responded to his advances. That she had reacted so violently to his mind probe was the first sign of hidden powers. Zranid was not a wizard, but he did possess some talent, and no mere thief should have been able to resist his probes. The necklace was the key to everything, he was certain; it dripped with magic, a beacon to anyone with the right senses. So he let her live a few more days, seeking to learn more about the strange piece of jewelry. If he had known about the raid, he would have struck much earlier…

But then, he mused, perhaps it was for the best that the attack forced his hand in a clumsy attempt; if she had not had other distractions, perhaps she would have finished him off…

But one good thing had come of this disaster. Reaching into a hidden compartment with one hand, Zranid pulled out a needle-thin, wicked-looking dagger. With the other, he felt along the curve of his ear until he found the place where metal melded with flesh. The accursed woman's attack had destroyed Lixarin's leash, a magical communication earring that allowed her to track his movements. It had melted in the heat of the blast, destroying the enchantment, later fusing with flesh as it cooled. He imagined her desperately trying to contact him, casting the spell over and over again before giving him up for dead; Zranid laughed, a soft cold sound, like a silken cord tightening around a neck.

Very carefully, Zranid poked the needle through the membrane of his ear, cutting carefully. Blood slicked cool metal, stained dark fingers. His lips tightened slightly. Finally the lump of flesh came away, and he tossed it up and down before hurling it away into the woods. Touching a finger to his lips, Zranid licked his own blood and smiled. The new hole in his ear would have to be healed, but now his last link to Zorin'zaal was cut. Swinging himself back onto the trunk, he clambered down to the ground, and set off to the east. He'd heard of a city in the foothills of Kushrrik, ruled by a coalition of wizards instead of an Archpriestess. He could stay there a while, free from the thrice-damned matriarchies of Lolth, and lay his plans for the execution of certain people in Zorin'zaal. And the death of one female in particular.

Years as an assassin had taught him patience. He would wait. And one day, the drow called Del'rania would die.

* * *

He had watched her fall from the sky, and later badgered one of the clerics into scrying her out, and now, nearly a week later, Tamariko an'Esrai hurried through the woods, following her trail.

The place of impact had been fairly easy to find with the help of the cleric, a tiny clearing literally burnt out of the forest. Nor had she bothered to hide her tracks when she fled, leaving an obvious trail for him to follow. He knew he was getting closer—the signs were getting fresher every day.

_There!_ A short distance away he spotted a black body, lying on the ground. He hurried up to her, only to come to a hesitant stop about five feet away.

She lay curled into a fetal ball, completely nude, eyes closed in sleep. Though actually fairly tall for a drow, she looked small and shrimp-like, strangely vulnerable, like a child. With a start, he realized that her hair now emitted a soft, silver glow. Asleep, she looked more at peace than he had ever seen her before.

Strangely unnerved, Riko stepped forward cautiously, hand out-stretched as if to wake her up.

A sheet of white flame abruptly heaved out of the ground, blinding him, the wave of heat driving him back. Riko lurched away with a cry, covering his eyes, and tripped, falling to the ground.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the drow woman bent over his body.

"Riko?"

He stared up at her, dumbstruck. When he did not reply, she sighed, holding out her hand. After a moment he took it and she pulled him to his feet.

He stumbled back a few steps, brushing grass from his hair. She had changed, somehow, since the night of the battle; she looked different, moved different, behaved different. The change frightened him. He had come looking for an acquaintance—a friend?—and found a stranger in her place.

It struck him that she remained nude, and, fumbling with the ties, he tugged off his cloak and handed it to her. She stared at it as if she had never seen one before—then took it, slowly, and flung it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she said after a pause.

"D-Del'rania," he said, and swallowed. "You—you've changed."

She shook her head sharply. "Not Del'rania. Not any longer. Raine." The words were Common, not Goblan.

"What?"

"I am no longer called Del'rania. The goddess has blessed me with a new name. Raine."

"Goddess? Surely not…_Lolth_!"

Another sharp shake. Lips twisted, eyes narrowed. "No. Not the Spider Demoness. Eilistraee. Lady of the Night."

"Oh…" He had never heard the name before.

They stood silent for a while. Riko felt strange, awkward and unbalanced, against her perfect poise and air of confidence. Eventually she began to turn away.

"Wait!" he cried, and instantly regretted it. Del'rania—or Raine, or whoever she was—gave him a regal glance over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Uh…What happens now?"

"The Daughters are looking for me, even as we speak. We shall find each other in a day or two, and return to their Temple."

"Del'rania—"

"Raine."

"—Raine, yes, what…what happened?"

"The Goddess embraced me, and took me into her bosom," she said simply.

Seizing his hand, she bowed, pressing her lips to it. "You have aided me well, Tamariko an'Esrai, and for that I am very grateful. Take this as a token of my regard." She traced a small sigil in the palm of his hand. "Show it to any of the devotees of Eilistraee, and they shall help you howsoever you choose."

Riko raised his hand to his eyes. A small silver crescent moon glimmered in the middle of his palm.

When he lowered his hand, she had already turned away and was walking into the distance. Riko stood there, watching her, until she vanished into the trees.

And, standing alone in the midst of the forest, he felt a sudden sharp pain: for a woman's voice, harsh with exhaustion and fear, speaking some gutter form of Goblan—_Stay away. I can take care of myself…What did you say your name was?…Mine's Del'rania._ And a pair of bright red eyes, complex and alive and…_imperfect_. Mortal.

With a sigh, almost a groan, Riko turned to go back the way he had come, walking slowly, strangely worn out by the bizarre encounter. He would have to deliver a report to the Jarrin, and heal the wounded survivors, and help rebuild the temple, and…

…And he remembered Del'rania's last words to him, shouted over the thunder of the battle: _Are you insane? You're going to die!_ How strange, he thought wearily, that you instead were sacrificed.

* * *

Good writing doesn't feel this way.

Trust me, I know. If anything, I feel let down by the story—it feels flat and unconvincing. Don't get me wrong—I'm not, repeat, _not_ fishing for compliments. There are some good elements, in my opinion—the prose came out okay, and the languages were a lot of fun, and I got at least one cool character out of it (did you really think I could kill him off so easily?), but the plot itself feels wrong.

I wanted to write a story about a relationship between a paladin and this drow he rescues from the slave market and it became something else. Maybe I'll rewrite it later, but if I do, it will be very different. It doesn't help that a whole new picture of drow society evolved in my head while I was writing this. And the ending was a lot more bitterseet than I expected (though that's probably a good thing, now that I think about it).

Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading this. You have been absolutely wonderful and very, very patient with me. Mwah to all of you.


	9. Glossary

Several different languages are used in this story, so I thought you might want a glossary. So here it is—glossary, first draft:

Drow

_Dhao'rissen_—True Elves (drow term for themselves; it is unknown if the word "drow" comes from this phrase or from the Elfish term for traitor, _darhei_)

_Emarin hamini si'kul_—All humans are the same (drow saying)

_Jha'kuul raitza, nu jha'suul eilai!_—your father is a rapist and your mother is a whore!

_Jheselaan_—Temple (the term has heavy connotations of respect)

_Kismat_—female head of a noble House

_Ne'emasu altai_—old heartfriend (term of close platonic intimacy)

_Riali bisu noma_—I'm so hungry

_Shochai_—_Sho_shit (roughly equivalent to "bullshit")

_Srasa maan?_—Is there food?

_Suhl'arin jhi?_—Where am I?

Goblan

_Idr k'vikvi ni'slarr (zuri)_—I wasn't spying on you (I swear)

_Idr sikt ee_—Don't hurt me

_Keshrik slarr_?—Are you awake?

_Keshriki_—I'm awake

_Kuva ee d'kush Riko d'tuvin roh_—I need to find Riko to tell him

_Kyrinin dri_—It's very important

_K'zuxa'an ri-dhao'rissen, a'shakshi xu ri-Jheselaan_—The _drow_ are coming, they're going to attack the _Temple_ (italicized words in Drow)

_Mikka'i t'Riko (zuri)_—I'm looking for Riko (I swear)

_Skosa Govan_—Speak Goblan

_Ska kukrin?_—Is there food?

_Slitza-ku slarr iki d'kush roh_—You must help me find him

_Taeki!_—I'm sorry!

_Tri?_—What?

_Vash-ku isa_—Let me go

_Vax slarr d'skum_—Do you wish to stop?

Other tongues

_an-Esrai_—From Esrai (Given that this is Riko's last name, probably he was educated or even raised at Esrai, beyond being based there)

_Raine'miande_—Starlit Necklace

_Saan'raine'cunta_—Silver Lady of the Night

_Sae-kun_—Sacred Journey/Quest (paladins in this setting are akin to holy knights errant. Whenever they are sent out into the field they are said to be on _sae-kun_)

That's it so far. I've been trying to set up a simple grammar structure for Goblan, because it's used so often. I don't want the language to be structured exactly like English; the literal translations of these terms would not be grammatically proper. Also, I might have gotten a few words confused. For example, I mixed up _vax_, _keshrik, _and _slarr_—they mean "wish," "awake," and "you" (in that order). Lastly, "ae" is pronounces "ay" (as in way), the "aa" sound is a lengthened "ah," and the "jh" sound is slurred (like the 's' in pleasure). Anyway, I hope this clears things up. Tell me if you see any mistakes or any phrases I missed.


End file.
